


Memores Acti, Prudentes Futuri

by SunAndMoon (LadyMorgaine)



Series: Vampires Before Christmas [5]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, M/M, Mpreg, Slice of Life, Slow To Update, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 81,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMorgaine/pseuds/SunAndMoon
Summary: Fic Title: mindful of things done, aware of things to comeChapter Title: method of living
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Lee Seokmin | DK, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Series: Vampires Before Christmas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580371
Comments: 162
Kudos: 233





	1. Modus Vivendi I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Fic Title: mindful of things done, aware of things to come 
>   * Chapter Title: method of living 
> 


Joshua stepped from the third SUV in the line and breathed in deeply. There was something about the air in the Lake District that felt as if it healed his soul, compared to Los Angeles. There was a hint of rain in the air even in March, and it felt cold enough to him that he still wore a downy sweater to huddle in. The others had laughed at the size of his boyfriend’s sweater on him – it took him to his knees almost – but he loved the warm feeling.

Scratched that. He loved _everything_ about the past three months, from getting a boyfriend to finding out that there were vampires in the world to finding that suddenly he had all the time in the world to finish reading not only Gunsloe’s library, but those of the other stately homes the bunch had between them. He had begun helping Seungkwan with the cataloguing; seeing the scope of the work, it wasn’t odd that Jihoonie’s baby seemed caught between raptures and the doldrums.

_Speaking of which…_

He waited for Seokmin to make his way around the car and bumped against his closest arm, holding him back a little from the larger group wandering forward to the stately home before them. It was a perfect example, nestled into a wood not thirty miles from Gunsloe, and very beautiful, but…

“Why are we here?” he asked very quietly, watching Seungcheol and Jeonghan wander through to the front of the house as Seungkwan babbled at them like a lecturer, pointing out features. “This is kind of odd for a vampiric day trip, isn’t it?”

Seokmin’s laugh glittered at him as he wrapped an arm around him; as had become usual for them when there weren’t many people around, he chose to slip his hand down Jisoo’s back and into the back pocket to hold him close. “Well, they do say that they make very good marmalade here, and there’s an excellent collection of modern ceramics,” he laughed, eyes squinting a little from that laugh. “And the gardens are really well planted?”

Jisoo didn’t blush, but he did peek behind him; as much as he enjoyed Seokmin’s hand on his ass he wanted to make sure no-one else saw it. “Very funny,” he drawled, relaxing slowly. “But I was under the impression my boyfriend is _Seokmin_ , not _Seungkwan_. Really, what are we doing here?”

Seokmin took a moment to kiss his temple before he jerked his chin towards a woman opening the door for the three up front. “With Siddeley still under investigation and repair, Seungcheol thought it’d be a good thing if he had a house closer to Gunsloe and Keswick. Gunsloe’s huge, about five thousand acres, so this is one of the closer stately homes. Those are easier to secure, unlike houses in town or apartment buildings where there’s shared access.”

Jisoo’s eyes rounded a bit, lips pouting in thought. “That makes sense… but I didn’t think they were thinking of moving out?”

“It’s just in case something goes wrong at Gunsloe too.” Seokmin considered him. “What about you? Have you thought about moving over here? You’re a model, right?”

Jisoo blinked at that, stepping into the house and carefully wiping his feet on the mat in the foyer. “A model?” he asked incredulously. “No? What makes you think that?”

Seokmin blinked as well, looking a little confused. “You’re not? Oh, but I think I heard something like that from Jeonghan-ssi, and you’re so beautiful I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t be one.”

_Oh my_ god _, how does he just say that kind of thing with a straight face? And he means it too, I know he means it!_

“No,” Jisoo said. “I’m not a model. I’m a music teacher.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not as fancy as all the rest of you, but them some of us have to be humble right? Strings, piano, some standing harp. I never really got the knack of the woodwinds.” His grin tugged slowly upwards. “Though I might try again now that I know you.”

Seokmin laughed out loud at that, pleased and embarrassed enough to have his ears slowly flush pink. “Fair enough. But did you want to consider moving over here? I can’t see that Jeonghan- _ssi_ would want you to go, you’re his best friend, and I would miss you terribly as well.”

Nibbling on the inside of his cheek, Jisoo fell silent. “I don’t know,” he said at long last. “I really don’t know. My visa’s still good for three more months, so I still have some time… and how often is it that your best friend can offer an all-expenses-paid visit like this? And it’s not like you’ve let me pay for anything since.”

As the others ascended up the staircase to start from the top, Seokmin pulled him back into the stone room that led to the exit. “Do you really want to go back?” he asked softly and persuasively, making himself at home in one of the carved wooden chairs and patting his lap just a little anxiously. “You could teach music here as well, and I don’t think anyone would mind if you wanted to stay on at Gunsloe, or here if they buy this one, or wherever.”

Aware of the quiet of the stone circling them in the old pele tower, Jisoo sighed and indulged his boyfriend, wandering forward to perch on his lap. It seemed to afford Seokmin comfort beyond just the closeness of the gesture; somehow it seemed to reassure him that Jisoo was still there, was still _safe_. He had noticed it from the other vampires as well, and he made a mental note to talk to Jeonghan about it later on.

“I’ll likely be able to find a job,” he agreed. “But I have bills to pay there and then a place to look for here; I want a place of my own some day, not just someone else’s home.” He leant back against Seokmin’s solid bulk, voice turning dry. “If only for a place we don’t have to sneak around if we want a quickie, or to get away from the others looking for the same privilege. I’m starting to believe that that nesting instinct bull you tried to smear off on me the other day is actually true.”

Seokmin leant to rest his face against Jisoo’s nape, large hands holding him safe. “I’d just like to get you away so that Jeonghan doesn’t tease me about any more threesomes that involve you,” he mumbled.

Jisoo stilled, then groaned. “I love him, but he’s so evil sometimes. Fine, yes, they offered once a long time ago, but…”

“Wait,” Seokmin got out, frame suddenly turned to marble. “He wasn’t talking about us and him?”

Jisoo laughed. “No, about myself and them… hey!”

“No way,” Seokmin growled, pulling him flush into his frame. “No _way_ does that asshole get to see you like that, you’re _mine_.”

Jisoo sat very still, trying not to struggle, and trying to ignore the imp of mischief in him. Anything said now would only mean Seokmin dragging him away somewhere, and as much as the idea of public sex titillated him, he didn’t want to _actually_ experiment or scare any others around. “I guess then you’ll have to think of following Beyoncé’s advice, huh?” he teased, and slipped away as Seokmin’s hold lightened a little. “Come on, let’s get back to them.”

* * *

Seokmin padded through Gunsloe, leaving the conversations behind as he tried to track Chan down. The young vampire had become much wilier recently; his first century was fast approaching and the speculation was rampant as to which gift he would get to commemorate that milestone. Seokmin rather suspected it might be something more subtle than his father’s command-voice or Sebastian’s ability to read minds, especially given the atmosphere he was in currently. Right now, he’d even consider some form of invisibility, given how difficult it was to track him down.

He finally managed to find him way off in the vaults, hiding in a separate space behind the massive animal blood fridge most of the vampires at Gunsloe snacked from, and spent a minute just watching him. He was _dancing_ , not the old-fashioned dances of past eras but something bright and modern and fun; the young vampire was so graceful that Seokmin’s mouth hung open a little. There was some kind of pop song playing, and if he peeked he could see there was a small corner decorated as a tiny resting spot.

_Gods, of course I’m intruding on his alone time, it’s not like Gunsloe Manor is as large as Siddeley looked._

He felt guilty for a moment, but forged forward. Knocking on the side of the fridge earned him a surprised look and a quick termination of the music, but Chan was all smiles, not as put out as he had feared. “ _Hyung_?” he said, a little out of breath. “Sorry, was someone calling for me?”

Seokmin braced one hip against the fridge. “No, and I’m sorry to disturb you – this is a nice spot.”

Chan wrinkled his nose, but he looked proud as he glanced back at his relaxation corner. “Seungkwanie made it for me,” he said as he pulled ear-pods out of his ears. “We were down here one day seeing if there was another part of the vaults, and it was nice and quiet, so… he’s such a mom, honestly. You’re not disturbing.”

Seokmin blinked; Seungkwan definitely had the habit of mothering Chan, but he hadn’t thought it went far enough to cut through the nagging he did as well, and for a second he wondered if Chan saw the young man as something more than just a friend. Shaking his head at that worry, he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you could help me with something? Jisoo said something about Beyoncé recently, and I didn’t understand what he meant by that at all.”

Frowning, Chan stowed his phone and ear-pods, dragging a crate closer with one foot. He looked at it dubiously, rescued a pillow from his nest and rested it on the chest, then presented it to Seokmin. “I can try?” he said, dragging up another crate for himself. “What is it?”

“We were talking about relationships and I was getting somewhat possessive…”

Chan wrinkled his nose. “Not the… not _all_ the details, _hyung_ ,” he begged. “Just the bare bones?”

Seokmin laughed out loud. “It’s just that he said that he guessed I should follow Beyoncé’s advice. I know she’s a singer of some sort, but I’ve got no idea what he means?”

Frowning, Chan nibbled on one nail, and his gaze grew distant. “You were talking about relationships?” he finally muttered, “About the two of you and a relationship? What were you talking about before that?”

“Not much? Houses, and the possibility of him moving to England and getting a place of his own and so on.”

Chan reached to grab his phone and unlocked it. “I know she liked Michael Jackson, which I like too…” His voice faded as he scrolled, before he blinked and a roguish grin slipped into being. “You said you were talking about houses and him perhaps moving here?” he confirmed. “So, relationship stuff?” At Seokmin’s nod, he laughed softly. “Wow, I have respect for Joshua- _hyung_ now. I’m pretty sure he was talking about the Single Ladies song. You know… if you like it, you shoulda put a ring on it? I can play you the MV upstairs, reception down here is really, really bad. Or Seungkwan and I can dance it for you, it’s really easy.”

“If you want it you shoulda put a ring on it?” Seokmin echoed dumbly. “He wants jewellery?”

Chan stared at him, then stared some more. “No, _hyung_ ,” he said at length, just a tad slowly. “He’s saying that if you want a real relationship where you can legit get possessive, you have to commit to it. The ring Beyoncé’s referring to is a wedding ring.”

“I… oh.” Seokmin felt gobsmacked. “I’ll go out and get him one immediately… I didn’t think he wanted to…”

Chan lunged as Seokmin stood and held him back by the arm, pulling him back down to the crate-chair. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said earnestly. “You’ve got to be _romantic_ about this. You can’t just buy him one and toss it at him like you’ve received permission from his family and he belongs to you now. Those days are all over, we left them back in the 1800s. Jisoo- _hyung_ is very independent, you know? And very responsible. You’ve got to plan your, um, attack vector carefully.” He sighed. “And you really should be speaking to my dad, he knows him the best.”

Seokmin fell silent as Chan spoke; oddly, the more he did the more Seokmin’s heart warmed up little by little. “You’re a very loyal friend,” he said, grinning as Chan mumbled and turned his head away. “And it’s my privilege to know you, Chan-ah. Thank you, I’ll go and speak to your dad.” Standing, he reached to give him the most adult handshake that he could, saw Chan’s happy smile start again, and left deep in thought.

_Whoever gets that boy one day will be very lucky,_ he considered. _And very threatened, all of us will be after whoever breaks his heart._

* * *

Seungkwan sat in his little study, hands tight in his hair as he considered the letter on his laptop. He had written and applied more on a whim than anything else. Now… well, this changed things. He chanced a guilty little glance towards the other side of the table where Jun- _hyung_ sat getting familiar with a laptop; the constant tic-tic-tic of finger-protectors on keys were so ubiquitous by now he didn’t register them until he looked. “ _Hyung_?”

“Seungkwan-ah?” Jun questioned without looking up. “What’s yellow and goes bang-bang-bang-bang?”

Seungkwan blinked, jolted from his train of thought. “ _Hyung_? I have no idea?” _The marvels of the internet, and he spends it looking up dumb jokes? Wow…_

“A four-door banana!” Jun explained exultantly and looked hopefully at him.

Seungkwan just _stared_ , the fussiest stare he could conjure up.

Jun sighed softly. “No, I guess it’s not that funny in English. What is it, Kwannie?”

Grimacing, Seungkwan turned his laptop around and prodded it a little forward. “I’ve been accepted for a nine-month curatorial internship for the Royal Collection Trust,” he mumbled. “I saw it earlier this year and thought I might apply, so I put together my CV and sent it off, and now… well. They told me that they managed to fast-track my start for the April intake, not the July one like I originally applied for. It’s such a great honour and I’d learn so much, but…”

Jun paused, closed his laptop and put his hands together elegant, reclining back on the brocaded chair he had seconded for desk work. “But?” he questioned.

Seungkwan sighed and deflated. “But it’s in Windsor Castle, so I’ll have to be in London for that time, and I had already budgeted most of my money for my parent’s move over here, so I don’t know how to tell them that not only will I not be here when they move, but that I won’t be able to help pay for it either. And they’re moving on my behalf, I know they are.”

“Hm,” Jun muttered. “But this is a tremendous opportunity, right? Will you be able to handle it on top of the other accelerated degree you were thinking of applying for, if you take it?”

Seungkwan’s brows knit together. “I think so?” he said thoughtfully. “I listed my concentration on Far East history and my desire to expand into Decorative History and Conservation on my CV, so I guess they wouldn’t have granted it if they thought I couldn’t hack it? I’ll try my best anyway, it’s just…”

Jun considered him levelly. “I think it’s not so much the money issue that’s bothering you?” he asked. “Forgive me for saying it, but Soonyoung- _hyung_ is likely to pay for the whole move any case, you know he considers you family, and that’s only if Mingyu- _hyung_ or Seungcheol- _hyung_ don’t get there first…” He paused to watch Seungkwan colour slowly. “I’m thinking it’s more that you don’t know how to break the news to _Hansol-ah_ , not your parents. You’ve not been parted from his side since you two met, barring the odd day trip.”

Trying to seem brave, Seungkwan only succeeded in collapsing into another sigh. “Yes,” he admitted softly. “My mom already blew a gasket when I tried to explain the blood thing to her, and when everyone agreed with her…” He swallowed. “I’m afraid he’s going to think I’m only wasting his time. We’ve not had much time to be alone lately, between the projects I’ve taken on here and the new degree stuff at Courtauld that starts next year.”

_Poor kid,_ Jun thought. _But then you don’t often see how he looks at you._

“I think you’ll find that whatever you need to flourish and grow, Hansol-ah will support,” Jun said plainly. “And I think you should discuss it with him as well as your parents because frankly, if I’m understanding correctly, that is one _hell_ of a chance.”

Seungkwan nodded eagerly. “It is! I didn’t think I really had a chance, because I’m not English and my degree was more in history, not specifically art history? But I’ve learnt to love it so much, and I have practical experience already.” He nibbled on his lower lip, fingertip tracing the hallabong sticker on his laptop’s back. “You think he’ll be okay with it?” he muttered. “He won’t be angry?”

Jun reached to close Seungkwan’s laptop with a finger-protector. “I think,” he said firmly, “that he’ll be fine with it. Go and talk to him. Scoot.”

Seungkwan nodded and hopped up, coming around the desk to give him a quick hug before trotting off in search of his boyfriend.

Jun remained behind, wondering whether he’d ever have to have conversations like these with his kids as well.

* * *

Hansol, about to walk into the main living room to look for Seungkwan, nearly turned and punched as someone lashed out to catch his shoulder; when he whipped around and spotted Chan he clapped the hand to his heart instead, breathing out. The continuing investigation at Siddeley had everyone on edge, especially with four babies in the house now. “Bro,” he breathed out. “You’re killing me here.”

Chan wrinkled his nose. “You don’t want to go in there right now,” he warned. “My dad’s grilling Seokmin- _hyung_ on his intentions about Jisoo- _hyung_ , and I’m pretty sure blood’s going to start flowing any time now. You’re looking for Seungkwanie? Last I saw him he was heading out towards the forest, said something about needing time to think.”

Hansol nodded, then paused. “Do you think he knows Soonyoung- _hyung_ has his phone lo-jacked?”

Chan snorted. “Dude, of course not.”

Feet already turning away, Hansol nevertheless hesitated a little. “Are you ok?” he asked uncomfortably; Chan was a friend but he had never gotten the knack for conversational skills, his better half was the clear winner there. “I mean, without a girlfriend of your own.” He paused. “Boyfriend? Shit, I don’t even know, bro. Whichever.”

Chan’s flat stare seemed remarkably like resting bitch-face. “You’re really bad at this,” he said with a rat-tat of fingers as he crossed his arms.

Hansol shrugged uncomfortably.

Chan sighed. “I’m bi,” he said after a while. “And no, I’m not lonely, or looking. Besides, there aren’t many vampires around so… well. But this is really the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve ever had, so just please go and look for Seungkwanie before we both go blind from embarrassment?”

“Oh,” Hansol got out, understanding the slight trace of unhappiness under that ‘well’. “Yeah... thanks dude.”

He wandered out of the house after muttering a goodbye, and it cost him a fraction of a minute to track Seungkwan’s scent down. Whilst he didn’t walk fast, he still reached him only a short time later, up on the edge of the hill that looked down on Gunsloe, with the leading female of one of the wolf-packs keeping his toes warm. From the big bag at his side that smelled faintly of blood, his boyfriend had been carrying meat scraps into the forest again. “Hey,” he said softly as he nodded to the matriarch, then smiled at Seungkwan. “Do you want a lift down to the manor?”

The matriarch opened one eye to give him an evil glance as Seungkwan startled from his introspection, but obligingly got up and rubbed her cheek against his boyfriend’s cheek before disappearing down the ridge-line.

“Hey,” Seungkwan muttered. “Was it my imagination or was she glaring at you there?” He scratched at the side of his neck. “Her fur’s scratchy. And… not the manor, please? I’ve got to talk to you.”

Hansol pulled him up. “Just a little, she probably wanted more time with you.” He turned around and bent down slightly. “Hop on, and we’ll go to the cottage, ok?”

The road down was very quiet and the cottage cold. With Seungkwan in the pile of blankets, Hansol spent some time tending to the fire before he moved to join him, close enough to put a hand on his knees but not too close. “Is it about something important?’

Seungkwan stared unhappily at him, opened his mouth and appeared at a loss for words almost immediately. “I…” Breathing in deeply, he tried again. “I applied for and received an invitation to intern at Windsor Castle at the Royal Collection Trust starting in April,” he said. “I’ll have to move there so that I can commute there, and I’m worried… I’m worried that you won’t like that.”

Hansol stared at his boyfriend, trying to understand why he looked so upset. “That’s a good thing, right?” he tried. “I mean, working at a castle doesn’t come along every day, I’m guessing.”

“Right! It’s a really big chance, which is why I’m worried you’re not going to like it, and we didn’t discuss this beforehand, I only applied on a whim. I’m so sorry, Hansolie, I should have told you, it’s just that I didn’t even think I’d get it, and…!”

Using the hand on Seungkwan’s knee, Hansol slowly petted a line from knee to calf. “Slow down, baby,” he said gently. “I’m not upset. This is your life’s dream, right? So why are you twisted up inside about this?”

Seungkwan fell quiet, looking down. “I’ll have to leave here,” he said softly. “I’ll have to live in Windsor. Not only won’t I be able to help my parents, but I’ll be leaving you? I’m worried that you’d think I’m wasting your time or something. We’ve not been going out that long and here I am already leaving?”

_Oh_. “Is there a reason I can’t come with?” Hansol asked carefully. “I mean, did you want me to stay here and help your parents? Or did you want to be alone there to concentrate on your work?” _God, he’s so sensitive inside, he deserves someone far better at emotions than I am._

“No!” Seungkwan said loudly, looking at him with rounded eyes. “But… won’t you mind?”

Hansol sighed. “Kwan, I was willing to go to Korea to be with you,” he said blandly. “And now you’re wondering if London’s too far? Honestly, baby, how do you get twisted up inside thinking this kind of thing? We can get a nice apartment down there and see how living together works?” He reached again, this time to pull Seungkwan closer and into his arms. “Even if I’m not allowed to share blood with you yet, I love you. You’re it for me. You need to understand that.”

Seungkwan stilled in his arms before bursting out into noisy sobs.

“What?” Hansol asked, panicking, loosening his hold on his boyfriend. “Why are you crying?”

“You love me!” Seungkwan wailed. “It’s… it’s the first time you said that!”

Hansol sighed and shook his head, hugging tightly again. “How soft are you?” he accused gently as he pressed his lips against Seungkwan’s hair. “Listen. You’re going to go there and you’re going to rock their socks off, okay? And I’ll be right there with you if you want.”

Seungkwan’s lips were on his an instant later; he tasted of tears and smiles and wriggly happiness. “I want!” he whispered happily. “Of course I want.”

* * *

Junhui wandered to their bedroom as the afternoon waned into evening, following the lodestar in his heart. Minghao had been very quiet in his head the last few hours, and it wasn’t until he tip-toed into their bedroom that he saw why. Ever since they had decided to stay here, to try again, the ancient had done whatever he could to conserve his resources, to build up a bulwark that might allow his body to change over. It was likely why he was on the bed now, tucked in beneath the blankets and curled into a little ball, fast asleep.

It looked _adorable_. Jun had never had the opportunity of seeing his husband asleep before the last few weeks; Minghao had been an ardent believer in meditation which had given him the same rest, but Sophie had warned against that, encouraged him to allow his body to find its old rhythms instead of controlling it so rigidly.

Jun turned to close the door and crept closer to pull the four-poster’s curtains shut before he shucked his clothing off and crept into bed next to Minghao. It was so easy to wrap around him – he was still so bone-thin – and he smelled of warm soft sheets and comfort, and felt even better in his arms. He scooted close, wrapping his body around him, and nudged a little so that he could wiggle a hand in between the large frog plushy his mate cuddled and the delicate, warm stretches of his belly.

He ached to gently slip teeth into him and slowly drink from him, but that had been placed on the ‘forbidden’ list as well, something about not stressing his body out too much as it tried to accomplish a miracle. Minghao was already on so many pills and supplements that he could practically smell them wafting off his pores: the slight bitterness of herbs and vitamins and who-knows-what. Closing his eyes and tucking his mate’s chin underneath his, he thought back to the time they had first met all those centuries ago.

Minghao had already been an old, established vampire then; Jun had been a gift to his service in repayment of some favour or service never quite specified, and he had been so _afraid_. Everyone had lectured him for weeks beforehand on what his service should be like that he had been paralysed to look up at him that first day, and it was only with weeks of patient handling that Minghao could get him to speak above whispers. He had realised how lonely he was when Minghao taught him how to read and write and do numbers, all for his education and not Minghao’s amusement.

The ancient had been _kind_ and Jun fell in love with him over the course of many months, and they were married within the year. It had come as a great shock to him, not to mention the court and his parents, but Minghao had been outspoken for once, and he had gotten Jun. The ceremony had been lavish and he had been afraid again, but looking into his eyes after their third bow he had spotted the mirth in Minghao’s eyes at all the palaver, and had known then he had made the right decision.

Even their wedding night had been good; Minghao had been very gentle with him there as well, and had not complained about his admittedly inferior blood – his vampire clan hadn’t been nearly as elevated – and soon it hadn’t even mattered, they had shared that much blood.

He would never have predicted they’d be here at Gunsloe, but as he curled around him he couldn’t remember happier memories in the last eight centuries than the months they had been here, lest it was the year they had spent falling in love.

Idly, just because he could, he slipped his arm beneath Minghao’s head in lieu of the pillow. All his mate did was mutter into the frog plushie; he didn’t even move when Jun traced patterns over his flat, muscular belly and _oh_ , the ideas that gave him.

It didn’t take long at all for him to coax his hand down a little. Ghosting downwards over the relaxed, limp line of his cock, Jun moved to tickle at his thighs instead, feeling the super-soft skin firm and fresh underneath his thumb. He leant in again, kissed the back of his ear gently and continued to softly stroke along the lines there, until his Hao-Hao shivered delicately and rolled over towards him, still firmly asleep. Dripping a line of kisses down his cheek, he paused for a moment to bite at the finger-protectors, pulling them off so that he could trace the soft, supple skin with his fingernails instead.

Hearing the blurred mumble of sleepy approval, Jun grinned. Cutting his nails off had absolutely been the best idea ever, especially when the touch of them made Minghao spread his legs just a little. Down they scratched gently, over the soft, fragile skin of his inner thighs, and Jun leant in to drink the sleep-drugged moan from Minghao’s mouth. He wasn’t sure whether it was the medicine or the way he was trying to persuade his body to change, but he _felt_ different, all pettable and soft.

The plushie though… that would have to go.

Jun slowly slipped it from Minghao’s grasp and tossed it away, making up for his mate’s needy-irritated flail for it by carefully slipping beneath him, rolling so that Minghao rested on his body. That got him a pleased murmur and he spent moments long caressing him back to sleep with little kisses against his hair and pets on his back. It was only when he settled to sleep again that he moved, coasting long fingers down his back in featherlight, teasing scratches before coasting fingertips gingerly over his backside.

That got him another squirm but no mumbles; he smiled up into the curtain-dark air as he felt Minghao’s cock slowly stiffening from the teasing. Not quite hard, not _yet_ , but he had to be careful to move slowly. He twined their legs together, enjoyed the bare smoothness against his skin, until their feet tucked together and Minghao’s cold feet warmed themselves against his ankles. Lazily, gingerly he rubbed little circles up from his butt to the long muscles in the sway of his back, petting him like he would a beloved, pampered cat.

He got another wiggle for his reward; when he travelled his fingers down again he carefully teased under the line of Minghao’s high, tight ass with his fingertips, slowly walking them up in the crease between so that he could gently massage the fragile skin there. A soft moan sounded against his shoulder as he slowly massaged up and down there, from the sensitive spot behind his balls to the very edge of his rim, and grinned as hips jerked greedily towards his touch. “Shhh,” he whispered softly. “Sleep, love.”

Counting his lucky blessings that Minghao was still asleep, he reached one hand towards the bedside table to gather their lube. It took so little effort to start applying it, just a little squeeze and a careful fingertip against the tight, _tight_ little pucker. He knew it had started to warm when Minghao’s hips searched back for his finger and he got a pleased little mumble; when he managed to slip one finger inside and his mate remained asleep, he couldn’t quite believe his luck. Instead of wasting it, he continued to prepare him, working slowly from two fingers to three.

Three fingers became four – Minghao was getting a little vocal even in his sleep – and he lubed himself up with a generous palmful before he slipped his aching cock into his mate, making him stretch-stretch- _stretch_ in a way that made his cock harden even more when Minghao gave a soft, needy whine. It felt so hot inside him, so furnace-bright and alluring, that it was all he could do to settle for a slow, drugging rhythm rather than a rough fuck as his hands coasted from shoulders to ass, petting and soothing him further into sleep.

Jun slowly fucked him like that, uncaring of the time passing; when he rolled them onto Minghao’s back his mate’s arms and limbs flopped heavy and uncoordinated in his sleep. He was silent except for the soft gasps and mewls he uttered on occasion; Jun _adored_ him like this, all soft and sleepy and utterly pliant. In and out, slowly but surely, he took his time in fucking his mate as skilfully as he could, until hungry lips came hunting for his kisses and he could tell from the faint tremble in Minghao’s perfect belly that he’d… _yes_ , there was the heat and wetness between them, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop for a long time.

* * *

Minghao was having the dream of his life: soft and sweet but raunchy. He was hiding somewhere at the lake with Jun and it was raining on them in the little nook they had managed to find, but the rain was warm and sweet and gentle and his mate was kissing him and he was kissing back. There was no one around, just them and the smell of nature, as he slowly rode on his boyfriend’s large length as the lapping edge of the river teased over their toes.

His belly felt as if an inferno gathered in it; the heat was so prickly-sweet and immense that it felt as if he would drown at it. On and on they rocked, until the bliss in his belly coiled too high and he sank against Jun with a whimper, trembling delicately through the aftershocks of the orgasm. It didn’t stop there; Jun was a force of nature himself, and skilfully helped his hips settle back into the pattern. Up and down, up and down, until it felt as if his head would explode. On and on, until he woke up and it was still happening.

It was very dark around them and Jun was in him, that was all he registered before he felt another orgasm coil through him. He cried out again, lifting sleep-heavy, greedy arms, and tilted his neck as he felt little nibbly kisses there. “Again,” he begged shamelessly. His body felt so loose and good even the bite of overstimulation wasn’t too hard.

“Sleep,” Jun urged above him, and so he did, falling back into a pleasurable doze as his mate slowly and thoroughly fucked him. On and on, until his dream and reality mixed, and he only woke again when he came for the third time, legs drawing up taut and lips ready to mewl his pleasure into Jun’s lovely mouth. They stayed like that, kissing and caressing, as he felt warmth start to shoot deep inside him. It mixed perfectly with the pleasure in him, and he felt as if he breathed out stars from sheer delight.

“We should…” he tried to say, but was kissed silent. Jun rolled them around until he sat straddled, cock still deep inside him. “Mnn, Junnie…”

“It’s raining,” Jun explained softly, large hands flushing from his hips up to his shoulders, then down to span his hips again, thumbs pressing into his abdomen to press and massage there. “Outside too, beloved, it started raining when you did. Go back to sleep if you want, I’ll hold you up straight.”

So Minghao did, utterly trusting in his mate, which led to him in a sleepy haze for the rest of the afternoon as Jun fucked him slowly and solidly like a deep, strong river. Late that night, when Jun finally allowed him a breather, he turned to cuddle into his side, full and sated and stifling pink tears of happiness into his shoulder. If conceiving had merely been a matter of love, he would have fallen pregnant that night. Instead, knowing that it was unlikely, he just revelled in the happiness deep in his heart, praying for many more days with the servant that had caught his heart.

* * *

Seokmin sat in the living room and tried not to feel as if he had been stuck with too many sharp verbal jabs. Jeonghan had been exceptionally vicious given he had merely asked for information, and had delivered the best shovel talk he had ever heard people speak of. Jihoon had been mostly quiet, given that he had to talk Jimin and Iseul through their bottle feed, but he had slipped in the occasional sharp statement as well, and all of them ended up meaning ‘of course you should ask him if you want something permanent, you _idiot_ , and don’t fuck it up or we’ll kill you.’

He didn’t doubt it. He knew they could kill him. Even if they hadn’t been able to themselves, their husbands would have helped with just a single pathetic look in their directions, and he _knew_ he was far too young to take on both Seungcheol and Soonyoung.

Obscurely, that had made him even more desperate to take Jisoo off the market permanently; he wanted that kind of love as well, and he wanted Jisoo to have that kind of assurance, the bone-deep knowledge that Lee Seokmin would do _anything_ for him. The knowledge, and the inherent goodness not to use that power for evil.

He left the room thoughtful, and let a few days pass as he made quiet inquiries. It wasn’t until he had found the perfect place that he went to winkle Jisoo out of the music room, where he had been tuning a grand piano merely by ear and a socket-wrench. Somehow, oddly, the very professional way he handled the socket wrench made Seokmin hot; he decided not to share that insight as he cleared his throat. “Lunch?” he asked idly. “It’s stopped raining a bit and I thought we could take a car over to Keswick and see what we could find.”

“Sing an A,” Jisoo demanded; when he did with a blink the socket wrench wiggled in the air. “Octave higher.”

He did again, holding it for as long as he could as Jisoo fiddled and adjusted the strings, and snapped his mouth shut afterwards. “Lunch?” he asked mildly again. “You? Me? Away from here?”

Jisoo gave him a bright, brilliant smile. “Yes please. Let me just go and wash up, I’ll meet you in the car.”

Seokmin nodded and ambled out to the large car he had hired; it was maybe fifteen minutes later when Jisoo came bounding out of the manor and joined in, snuggling happily into the bucket seat. He looked _brilliant_ in the overcast afternoon light, so Seokmin stole a kiss from him before they set off.

The drive wasn’t long, a bit over thirty kilometres, and he paused long enough in town to get them a pub lunch before starting to drive instead. This time he didn’t stop before they pulled into a long driveway, which led to a large, square stately home. The faded grey stone gleamed from the cloudy afternoon light, beautifully situated, and he watched the expression in Jisoo’s eyes go soft before he scooted him out of the car.

They took their time wandering around the Palladian lines of the house, making their way into the deserted garden. It was just a little wild, and he could already see order return to it, fancied planting a rose garden like Soonyoung did.

“Seokmin?” Jisoo asked gently. “It’s beautiful, but why are we here?”

Seokmin led them to a seat in a glass arbor, pulling him down on it before he spoke. “I thought about what you said the other day,” he explained. “I had to ask Chan what the reference was about, but I think I have it now. And then I spoke to Jeonghan a few days ago, who practically tore me apart but then explained a few things as well.”

Jisoo coloured very slightly. “Oh.”

Seokmin took heart from the fact that he wasn’t running yet. “And I thought back to that night at the lake most of all, and the way you cried and you were so sad. I think I understand now.” He reached to gently take one of his hands. “And I wanted to say that I would _never_ cage you if you wanted to go anywhere, but that I wish… I very much hope that when you do run, it’ll be towards me. I want it to be _me_ , Jisoo, not just because you’re magical in bed or because I don’t want you to be lonely, but because I like you. A lot.”

Jisoo’s breath hitched, tears slowly staining his eyes. “Idiot,” he whispered softly. “What are you _doing_?”

Inhaling, Seokmin reached to thumb the tears again. “I like you,” he repeated softly. “And I wish you would stay here with me, in England. Not just because you’re lonely deep inside, but because you like me as well. I’m willing to wait.” He took Jisoo’s hands and pressed them gently. “I’m willing to wait until you make your decision. But because I want you to feel like you belong, I thought I’d hire this as long as you’re in England. If you decide to leave, no problems. If you decide to stay, I’ll buy it outright. But this has to be your choice.”

Jisoo’s glance seemed confused, moving between him and the house. “Is this a bribe?” he asked, voice tight.

“No!” Seokmin said immediately. “It’s not a bribe. Just… just a place for you to find enough rest for your soul to make your choice. It’s far enough from Gunsloe and Sutton for you to have your own space, and if it’ll make you feel better I’ll even charge you rent?”

Jisoo’s smile was hopelessly wide even through his tears, and he took his hands back to dash his eyes clear. “Rent?” he asked suspiciously. “You think I can afford rent for a place like this?”

Seokmin smiled broadly at him. “Kisses,” he said impishly. “Ten kisses per day and it’s yours.”

Jisoo reached to move the picnic basket to a safe spot before he moved to straddle Seokmin’s lap; Seokmin’s hands cradled his lower legs so he felt no pain from the cold stone. “Kisses, huh?” he muttered, and set to paying his rent for the first day. Slow little pecks scattered across the face he had come to love, then down to his throat until he could attack the spot where his collarbones joined, fingers hooking into his shirt to undo a couple of buttons for that.

When Jisoo reached ten he sat back to give Seokmin a satisfied smile; the vampire’s gaze was clouded old-gold that spoke of arousal, which made him grin wider. “Day one,” he whispered. “Let me know when I’ve paid enough for my first month.”

They lost count somewhere around day eight; Seokmin had curled him close enough that he could wrap strong arms around his waist; Jisoo, mumbling with kiss-stung lips, had to fight to get free, and he straightened his untucked shirt as he tried not to glance around nervously. “I… don’t suppose you have the key to the front door here, do you? It’s kind of open around here.”

Seokmin leant back on his hands and considered his lover from head to toe: the soft look in his eyes, the adorable blush, the way he was toying with the buttons on his shirt, and debated whether he should deny it. On the upside, public sex. On the downside, Jisoo kicking him out of his bed. “I might,” he teased, leaning to reach into his pocket. “But I don’t know if I want to give it to you. You’re going to want to do unspeakable things to me.”

Snorting, Joshua reached out to take the key and turned to the house, humming as he went. “Well?” he called almost to the door. “Are you coming?”

_Not yet I’m not._ Seokmin fought a laugh and went, humming happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * So welcome to the surprise I had hinted at. I'll only be posting parts of these on the members' birthdays, so happy birthday Boo Seungkwan! 
>   * The first few chapters are going to be extremely slice-of-life, but there is plot lurking in there somewhere. 
>   * The house Jeonghan et cie are looking at can be found [here](http://hutton-in-the-forest.co.uk/house/). 
>   * The house Jisoo and Seokmin are considering can be found [here](https://www.dalemain.com/). 
> 



	2. Modus Vivendi II

April-June:

Minghao clicked his tongue with irritation as he looked at the email looming large on his screen. It bore the official image of the People’s Republic, and it amounted to thinly-veiled threats and whining that he dared to leave China. There were warnings about moving to another country, blustering about his personal properly and wealth in China, and… gods. They were being a royal pain in the ass.

He blinked as his cell rang. Picking it up, his eyes rounded and he answered quickly, standing up to walk to the window. “This had better be important,” he hissed out quickly, pulling the curtains to shade him from the daylight and any casual passers-by. “I told you never to call this number again.”

“Minghao-ge?” the person on the other side asked in a wobbly voice. A wobbly _female_ voice, and a young one too. “Minghao-ge, please, I need help…”

Swallowing, he breathed out noiselessly. “Yes?” he asked in a friendlier voice, trying to interject some warmth into his voice. “Who is this, and how did you get this number?”

The girl gave a noisy, snotty sniff, and he could hear the shh-shhs of one hand wiping her cheeks. “Huan-ge gave it to me. Please, I’m not sure what to do, he’s dead and my mothers are dead too and I think they’re on my track… please!”

Rage and fright coiled in Minghao. Yue Huan had been an enemy, a _good_ one that had been his brother before making life difficult for him. He hadn’t given a whit for the human race, had seen them only as blood bags… for him to protect a child meant that the child was a vampire, and there had been only one mated female pair he had been aware of. Darna and Tala had been famously reclusive, he hadn’t even known that they had a daughter, never mind that they had crossed paths with Yue Huan. “Are you sure?” he asked cautiously. “Are you sure they’re dead?”

Another sniffle. “Yes.” _That_ sounded shrill, almost on the edge of hysteria. “I can see them. They chopped their heads off, and they’re still burning. I wanted to run, but the sun’s still up, it hurts so much!”

Shock raced through Minghao. “Where are you?” he asked urgently. “Can you tell me where you are? I can come and fetch you? What’s your name?”

He got the news from her in bits and pieces; Reyna was at the stage that she was so frightened she saw through a tunnel, and getting directions were difficult. When he bade her hide, he listened to and talked her through creeping away a little deeper into a container before he put the phone down. This time he didn’t care for discourtesy; instead he stomped out of his room and down to the library calling loudly for Seungcheol and Soonyoung; he could feel Jun coming already, and his mate was with him the moment he stepped inside the room.

“It’s China,” he said bitterly as everyone crowded into the room, then cut his gaze to Jun. “Yue Huan is dead.”

Jun swallowed, expression conflicted before it settled on Minghao. “You’re sure?”

Seungcheol frowned as he sat down, pulling Jeonghan into his side. “Who’s Yue Huan and why is China involved?”

Minghao took a deep breath. “Yue Huan was an old blood-sworn brother of mine, before he tried to have a palace coup as it were. He’s a – he _was_ a fanatic and powerful, almost as old as I am. No one in the People’s Government would move against him, he had fingers in too many pies, knew too many secrets for them to try anything. However, I just got a call from Darna and Tala’s daughter; they’re dead and so is he, killed whilst trying to get the three women out of China via Shenzhen. She’s hiding somewhere in the warehouses close to Mai Po.”

Seokmin’s expression contorted, twisted to grief. “Darna and Tala are dead? Who would do something to them?”

“And who would risk Yue Huan’s wrath to move against someone under his protection?” Jun added. “Not to mention that him being killed sounds like a colossal fuck-up.”

“She doesn’t know,” Minghao said. “The child is nearly out of her mind from fear and pain. I want to go and fetch her and bring her here. But…”

Soonyoung frowned. “But it’d lessen our protections here and bring an unknown element in. If they were that hunted, surely there’s a reason, right?”

Nodding unhappily, Minghao clenched his hands. “I also received an e-mail from the government there. I had thought they’d be content with laying claim to our money there, but they’re not. They want me back there, and I can only guess why.”

Jihoon looked around the room. His gaze hitched on Jeonghan, but moved on again. “It’s a person in danger,” he said softly. “No matter how your instincts tell you to stay here and protect us, there’s nothing to protect us against here, and she’s in real danger. Youngie, I think you and Seungcheol should go, just in case it’s a trap and you need to fight free. I trust Seokmin-hyung to protect us.”

Soonyoung’s expression closed off as Seokmin looked baffled but proud; it was only when Jihoon reached to gently take his mate’s hand that Soonyoung sighed and nodded.

“You’ll need me too,” Jun said. “I know Shenzhen like the back of my hand. Did she say anything about where she is?”

Minghao grimaced. “Not much. She remembers running from a parking lot on Jinhua Road and going past a UPS, but not much beyond it. She’s currently in a warehouse close to there that deals with computers, but she didn’t see the name. She can smell the river, but she’s too young to tolerate sunlight to look out a window.”

Seungcheol’s breath hissed. “God, what a situation. Did the world go mad over there? I hate tracking with so few clues.”

Jun shook his head. “No need. She’s somewhere around Oclaro Technology. They deal with superconductors for engineering and telecommunications, and they’re next to the river. The UPS is just a block north from there. It’s a good hiding spot, that area is practically a warehouse city. It might be trickier from there.”

Minghao bit his lip. “She said she could still see them burning outside. I had to talk her into hiding deeper in the warehouse. She didn’t want to leave them.”

“What?” Soonyoung whispered, appalled, “She… yeah, no, we should leave as soon as we can.”

“I take you,” Minghao murmured and stretched out his arms, closing his eyes to get a better fix on Jun’s memory that bloomed in their bond. He heard faint farewells, and then nothing for long seconds as he teleported them to China.

* * *

The sun beat down on the noisome alley as they appeared in the spot Minghao had grabbed from Jun’s mind; he had expended enough power that he had to bend over for a moment, concentrating to feel past the dizzy feeling in his mind. Jun’s hand settled on the small of his back, letting him share strength, whilst Soonyoung and Seungcheol ranged to the two exits of the alley.

Soonyoung wrinkled his nose against the smell of urine, rotting vegetation and sea water. Consulting something on his watch, he grimaced before tilting his head. “I’ve been in some dives before, but this is disgusting. I can barely smell to the end of the alley.”

“No need,” Seungcheol said as he peered out the other side. He held up a gesture for silence, then beckoned them over.

The small open space beyond was rank with the scent of burnt flesh and thick, greasy smoke that spiralled slowly into the heavens. There were men there too, mingling aimlessly as they discussed something amongst themselves; over to one side a man was hunkered down next to a pile of what looked like belongings, pawing through it aimlessly. Over in the distance, at the entrance to Oclaru’s warehouse segment, another row of men stood arguing with a warehouse guard.

“They’re arguing that they should get out before the regular police gets here,” Jun whispered. “The men at the gate are negotiating keep-quiet money, but it sounds like they’re losing their temper. Any second now that poor guard… ah yes, damn. He should just have run off, poor guy.”

The guard’s body fell where he had stood, shot neatly in the chest. The two men dragged him back, threw him on the heap of burning corpses and called for something, waving a hand to attract attention.

Seungcheol grimaced. “I’ll take care of this.”

Minghao peeked out from behind Jun’s body as Seungcheol left the alley, strolled across the road and snapped something firmly at them in Mandarin; his friend’s accent was poor enough that he winced at it. “He gonna get shot,” he predicted softly, and blinked when Soonyoung laughed softly at him. “What?”

“Just watch,” Soonyoung prompted.

He turned back and saw the men stumble to a halt, dropping whatever they were doing; Seungcheol’s voice drove them like a lash as he compelled them to enter a nearby old container, and when they were all inside he snagged a bar through the handles, twisted the two-inch steel rod firmly and coiled it all together to form an impromptu padlock with a mere shrug of his shoulders.

Minghao just stared dumbly; Jun was practically bent over with laughter as Seungcheol motioned them forward. “He has command voice?” he asked Soonyoung as they made their way over, and received a nod.

Shaking his head, Minghao slipped past the burning corpses with a slight bow of regret and respect. They were so charred that he couldn’t recognise Yue Huan’s features, and the two women were only slight, blackened twists of flesh that he was hard put to recognise as human. Only the three shrunken, fire-eaten heads nearby marked them as having lived once; the scent of burning flesh sickened him as he hurried past into the warehouse proper.

It sounded hollow and silent inside, with their footsteps echoing on the uneven concrete. The roof was plinking and groaning as the sun heated it, but no other sounds came from inside, and Jun led them on without cease. Two warehouses, then the third, all interconnected into a vast space full of raw materials and circuit board. It was the fourth, the smallest of the lot, that Jun led them to, and when he shouldered open the door a whoosh of cold air breathed over them. “Refrigerated storage,” his mate explained. “They can’t keep the superconductors out in normal storage.”

Minghao worried at his lower lip as he nodded, slowly walking inside. “Reyna?” he called softly. “Reyna, it’s Minghao-ge, you asked me to come?”

Not a noise, not a whisper.

“Phone her?” Soonyoung suggested on a whisper.

Nodding, Minghao did so, but did not hear anything ringing when he lifted it to his ear. It was only the ‘click’ of the call connecting and the soft, panicked breathing on the other side that let him know she was still alive. “Reyna?” he asked cautiously. “We’re here. You can come out now.”

“Too fast!” she said in a panicked hiss. “It’s too fast, you couldn’t have flown here, not even Huan-ge could have flown here in this time!”

“It’s really me,” Minghao said slowly, soothingly. “I can teleport people. I’m here with friends to rescue you.”

“Prove it!”

Grimacing, he looked around, before focusing on a small forklift sitting against one stacked pallet. It looked to be the middle of the room, which meant… “Hey,” he said. “Can you see the forklift? Don’t tell me where you are, just say yes if you can see it. I’m going to ask one of my friends to go over there, okay?”

Still nothing, but her breathing got a little calmer before she finally grunted in acknowledgement.

Soonyoung nodded when he glanced his way; wandering over to the forklift, he peered at it and worked his shoulders warm, then reached out for it. With a single grunt of effort, he lifted it into the air above his head; Minghao watched as he started spinning it with just one hand, batting at it as if a cat with a ball of wool, and rolled his eyes.

Jun snorted softly. “Show-off,” he mumbled.

From the other side of the warehouse, deep in the shadowy stacks towards the back of it, they heard a scrabble and a weak call for help. Rather than waste time on the labyrinthine route through the stacks, Jun led the way over them as Soonyoung tossed the fork-lift down. It took them seconds to get to the back section, and Minghao’s heart seized in his throat as he saw the girl. Blackened and charred in bits, with blood seeping sluggishly from bullet-wounds, she was so dirty and dishevelled he couldn’t tell how old she was.

“Reyna?” he asked, and lunged forward as she fell into his arms, sobbing hysterically. He could smell Yue Huan on her, acrid-spicy-protective, and her mothers’ scent underneath it, with only very faint traces of honey and figs underneath that.

“Five seconds,” Soonyoung called, and raced outside.

He was back inside four, arms full of something Minghao couldn’t spare attention for; when Minghao felt his touch, he tugged all of them through nothingness back into the library.

It was with swirling nausea that he put her down on the couch, stumbling back into Jun’s arms as exhaustion hit her. Jeonghan, Jisoo and Jihoon were already there, first aid kits at the ready; as Chan darted back into the library, he brought a folding screen with him, panting with the effort of the quick run. “Sophie’s on her way,” he got out, unfolding the screen to give the girl some privacy.

“Channie!” Jeonghan’s voice came from inside. “Blood, as much as you can carry!”

Minghao struggled fitfully. “I heal… give me a hand…”

“No,” Jun snapped. “You’re at your limit, any more and you’ll collapse yourself. We only need one patient, x _īngān._ I’ll go. _”_

Chan ran from the room as Jun disappeared behind the screen too. Minghao was too tired to keep his head up, so collapsed in the closest sofa and put his head down, falling asleep.

* * *

It took two weeks for the girl to heal enough to get out of bed. Sophie answered everyone’s worried questions with a shrug; she was simply too young to be able to speed up her healing, that and she was so depressed from her mothers’ and protector’s deaths she had very little will to do anything. From what they could tell she was barely eighty years old, and that was hopeful; there was so little information she gave that they had nothing to gauge with, save that she had been through some kind of hunt.

It was the last straw for Jun.

He put his foot down as he had never done before with Minghao; within those two weeks they moved as much of their money covertly as they could pay others to, stuffing it into numbered accounts in offshore banks to deny corrupt officials a golden payday. When Minghao had recovered enough to take Jun back to their nest they found devastation; the secure mountain lair in the desert had been bombed open, and everything stripped that the soldiers had found. It was only the deepest vaults further into the desert that they had not gotten their hands on; they moved back documentation stretching back over four thousand years, scrolls and tablets and books and the priceless antiques inside.

It was all he could do to get the things to Dubai; he was so bone-tired and emotionally wrecked that he couldn’t face shipping everything back to England. It felt as if he had a vice around his chest. He had no nest, no _home_ , and he felt constantly weary, spending long days in bed watched over by the others as Jun worked to get their life transferred to England. Nothing seemed to help, not Jisoo and Jeonghan’s constant company, not the others trying to cheer him up, not even Jihoon’s soft hugs and baby stories.

When _it_ happened, it felt like the perfect capstone to his depression, and he stopped paying attention for long stretches of time; the rest was spent reading in bed, but even that was restless because he didn’t have his rock beside him even though they messaged every day.

One evening, very late at night, he woke when someone crawled into bed next to him. It wasn’t Jun, the smell was too sweet for that. It wasn’t the girl either. Instead, wiggling to get closer to him was Seungkwan; he smelled worried and tired and tainted by linseed oil and car exhaust. He didn’t say anything, just gathered Minghao into his arms and wrapped them around him, warming him by presence rather than words.

They lay like that for ages; when Minghao tried to speak he couldn’t. Instead it was a sob that came out, and another hard on its heels, until he cried in Seungkwan’s arms like a little baby. The young man petted his hair and sang gently to him, hands soft on his back; Minghao had never appreciated Boo Seungkwan as much as he did in that moment; because he felt _understood_. When he had at last cried his fill Seungkwan’s baby-blue shirt was soggy from his tears but he felt better, as if something inside of him had gotten scoured clean of resentful darkness.

“Sorry,” he muttered into the space between them. “I’m sorry.”

Seungkwan sighed softly. “I’m sorry too that I wasn’t here,” he muttered back. “When Jihoonie-hyung told me you were sad I wanted to come immediately, but I had to finish an exam first. Hansol drove us up here immediately after. I am so, _so_ sorry that you had to go through that, hyung. Have you… how stressed have you been?”

Minghao reached up to scrub his face dry on a sleeve. “I didn’t make it,” he finally said. “I could feel it start to happen, but I used too much power to get us to China and back. It wasn’t very far along, maybe just a couple of weeks. I only realised it afterwards, when my body started to reject the dead cells. I don’t think they were even to an embryo stage.” He paused. “I didn’t want to tell the others. They’re busy helping the girl adapt, and Jun’s still busy ferrying the last of our things here from where I dropped them off in Dubai.”

“Hyung…” Seungkwan sounded as if his heart was breaking. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.” He bit his lip. “Do you want to come and stay with us for a little while? It’ll get you out of the house and you can catch a breather.”

“No, you have to study, you have a job…”

Seungkwan shook his head as he sat up. “It’ll be fine. There’s enough space in the townhouse, and when Jun-hyung is done with his things he can come as well. You need space, hyung, and caring for. Jihoonie-hyung and Jeonghan-hyung are busy with their babies and the girl, and Jisoo-hyung’s taken over everything else, and I don’t want to leave you here with the _men_.”

Minghao’s mouth twitched just the tiniest bit. “You’re a man too, and Hansol-ah.”

“But the right kind, not so… intense all the time,” Seungkwan said, enthused. “You can boss us around from our couch; it’s quiet there in the daytime and you can keep Hansol ompany… do say that you’ll come, please?”

Faced with the hopeful glee on Seungkwan’s face, he could merely nod. He didn’t need to do much. Seungkwan packed for him, enthusiastically filling two hard-shell cases. When he got downstairs to apologise to the others, Jihoon hugged him so hard he squeaked, Jisoo begged to be allowed to run away as well, and Jeonghan smiled serenely from his spot in the study. No one cared or thought he was weak; instead he could feel their love like a physical presence, and almost cried again. He felt _ridiculously_ emotional, in desperate need for attention, and thirsty for the first time he could remember in two weeks.

Hansol tucked him into the back of the SUV and tucked blankets around him, then motioned Seungkwan in there as well; the look of gratitude Seungkwan gave his quiet boyfriend made Minghao sigh.

“Here,” Seungkwan said happily, thrusting a shake bottle with a straw at him. “Dinner. I heard you skipped.”

It took them over five hours to get from Gunsloe to the townhouse near Windsor the two young men were staying in, and by the time they arrived Minghao felt so sleepy that he stumbled getting out of the SUV. Seungkwan’s cautionary noise made Hansol pick him up; he had never been carried by anyone but Jun, and it felt weird enough that he was thankful when he got into bed. The place smelled of light furniture polish and new sheets; rather oddly it relaxed him, and he drifted away without second thought.

* * *

“Jihoonie,” Soonyoung said as he looked up from his laptop, reaching up to press gently at the furrow between his brows. “I need to ask you something and I have no idea how to go about it.”

Jihoon, deep in the middle of a rather bland if informational video about a conservator arguing about the merits of gold foiling on frames, held up a finger to ask for a second. Getting this far in it had been a miracle, and he grunted as he finally got to the end of the section, thankfully stabbing the pause button before he looked up. “Soonyoung?” he said. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Soonyoung took a deep breath. “I’m a bit worried about our marriage,” he said carefully, holding his hands up immediately. “Not that I’m not delirious being married to you! I’m just worried that we’ve been in the midst of so much chaos lately that we’ve had very little time for ourselves. I can’t remember the last time we could spend the afternoon on the couch, or go out, or… or just even have sex.”

Of the three, it was the latter that shocked Jihoon the most; stilling the nausea in his stomach that Soonyoung thought he wasn’t doing a good job wasn’t easy, and he took a few moments to think before he reacted badly.

_I… when last did we have sex? Before the kids? It’s been just a couple of months, but I can’t even remember._

The thought upset Jihoon, enough so that he thought about the rest of it as well. Things _had_ been chaotic for the last few months, from Seungkwanie leaving to Jisoo’s engagement to the shock of the young girl they had rescued. He had never thought before how much the job of running a place like this entailed; Seungkwanie had been willing and even eager to take over the majority of the day-to-day organization. “…oh,” he finally said weakly. “Oh.”

Soonyoung didn’t say anything, leaving him to think.

Jihoon felt paralysed. Somewhere in the last nine weeks he had forgotten his husband in the mad whirl, and abruptly it made him think of their early days here, when it had been just the two of them and no outside interruptions. “I… give me a moment.”

He slid off the couch and scooted out the door, frantically checking noses before he found the right one. Jeonghan was in the dairy room of the old part of the manor, which they were converting into an impromptu pharmacy and first-aid room. “Help,” he said tightly as he closed the door behind him. “I need advice, hyung. Soonyoung just brought something to light and I have no idea how to deal with it.” At Jeonghan’s arched eyebrow and gentle ‘Good morning to you too’, he sighed. “Sorry, good morning, please help. He just asked why we never go out anymore, or even have sex, and I blanked.”

Jeonghan blinked and put the roll of bandages down. “It’s natural not to want to have sex for a bit after birth, the wound can make things uncomfortable. I wasn’t aware that you had problems in that area though, when last did you guys do anything?”

Jihoon grimaced. “Four months?” he hazarded. “Five? Since a bit before the kids’ birth.”

Blinking, Jeonghan stared at him. “What?” he finally got out. “Why so long?”

Unable to think of the answer, Jihoon could only shrug. “I don’t know?” he whispered. “There were the kids, and then Seungkwanie leaving and Jisoo’s engagement, and the girl… I don’t know! And I can’t even remember the last time the two of us had a moment to just eat out, or go out and walk around the town. I… am I a failure, Hannie-hyung? This makes me a miserable husband, right? I didn’t even think!”

“Okay, pull yourself together,” Jeonghan said, tone business-like. “You were busy, it’s no one’s problem. What you’re going to do is go up to your room, put on your best outfit and take your husband out for the day. Seungcheol and Seokmin can watch the babies for a turn, I’ll take Reyna to her doctor’s appointment and I’ll ask Jisoo to take care of any urgent business that comes in.” He held up a finger as Jihoon breathed in. “And you’ll take the night as well, go to some kind of fabulous love nest hotel – god knows there are a lot around here – and then if you can face it you can explain to your husband and seduce the hell out of him.”

It sounded like a plan. It sounded like more of a plan than Jihoon had managed, running off like a headless chicken.

“And when you return,” Jeonghan said, “We’ll have a little chat about how to get through life and marriage. You’ll admit that I have some experience with it?”

Jihoon nodded wordlessly. Four hundred years of being together, five children and seeming sanity? He was lucky if he got that far.

Jeonghan nodded sunnily at him. “Good, now scoot.”

Jihoon scooted.

He ran back to the study, poked his head in to shout “Just hold still!” and ran upstairs to jump through the fastest shower of his _life_. He winced as he cleaned himself – it was some time since he had done that so acutely – and opened his closet door to stare at it with wide yes. Fancy. Fancy…

Soonyoung _did_ like to shower him with clothes; the choice seemed way too hard. In the end, grumpy, he pulled out a tailored pair of slacks and a designer silk shirt, material embossed with dark swirls of colour. As comfortable as a slouchy sweater was, he pulled out a coat instead, pulling it on and sashing the expensive material shut. More moisturiser, sun-cream and a slight slicking of eyeliner later, and he trotted more decorously down the stairs.

Chan’s whistle and “Looking good, hyung!” from the side made his day. He gave him a nervous, happy smile, took a deep breath and opened the door to saunter inside.

Soonyoung, still hunched over his desk, looked up at him with wide, wild eyes. “Are you… oh.” He fell silent as he took in Jihoon’s new look, throat working as he swallowed. “Wow.”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said bluntly. “For all I’m a songwriter I can only say that I’ve been a neglectful idiot. Would you let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner? And… maybe a day on the town and a night at a hotel? I thought we could drive down to Lancaster.” He managed a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry, Youngie. You make things so easy for me, but I never want to take you for granted. The hyungdeul will watch over things here.”

Soonyoung’s smile was like the sunrise, slow and just a little blinding. “Lunch, then some shopping and dinner?” he asked hesitantly. “I know a nice hotel there too.”

Smiling, Jihoon reached to wiggle his hands at his husband. “What are we waiting for?”

* * *

It wasn’t a long drive to Lancaster, just over an hour, and through some of the most picturesque scenery in the area. Jihoon had more fun than he thought he would, singing along to obscure songs with Soonyoung, and by the time they pulled into the hotel Soonyoung had chosen he felt more excited than he had been in _weeks_. He booked them in, ignored the woman’s odd look at their lack of luggage, and let his husband drag him outside. They toured bookstores and jewellery stores, sports good stores and a tea room when Soonyoung professed a desire for something sweet, and finally ended up in GB Antiques Centre.

Jihoon wandered amidst the stalls, eyes wide at the assortment, and he grabbed Soonyoung’s hand to drag him forward to a stall laden with little porcelain figures. “Look,” he breathed. “Look at all of them. My mother would go mad here. Can you see any of those little cottages? She just started collecting them…”

The owner of the shop smiled from her corner. “The Lilliput Lane cottages?” At Jihoon’s wide-eyed nod she pointed around a corner in the L-shaped shop; Jihoon didn’t waste a moment darting over there. It was such a small section, but there were at least twenty of the little cottages crammed into the shelf space, all carefully preserved in their boxes with version number, year and short description on a little notecard in front.

Soonyoung followed him, grinning, but detoured to the other side of the shop, eyebrows arched as he stared down at a knight on horseback, rendered impeccably in porcelain.

Jihoon, lured by his silence, left the cottages alone to shuffle to Soonyoung’s side, looking down at the porcelain figure as well. “Youngie?” he asked quietly. “What is it?”

“Saint George,” Soonyoung answered quietly. “The patron saint of England.” He grimaced. “Our ancient world of courage; fair Saint George, inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons…” He didn’t touch the figurine, merely ran his fingers along its curves in the air. “The actual man was a guardsman for Diocletian, the Roman Emperor, and he was venerated in the Crusades. I think he’s one of the saints most everyone agrees on.”

“Sir knows his Shakespeare,” the shopkeeper said as she strolled up. “And his Royal Doulton.”

Jihoon made up his mind on the spot. It was rare, so very rare that Soonyoung got that wistful, thoughtful look to his face. “We’ll take it,” he said to the shopkeeper. “We’re staying in the Ashton at Quite Simply French – would you be able to deliver it there?”

“Jihoonie, no...” Soonyoung started.

“We always get me stuff,” Jihoon said quietly, squeezing Soonyoung’s hand. “This time I’m getting something for you. It’ll look good in the study.” He transferred his gaze away to the shopkeeper.

“Naturally,” she said easily. “I’ll have it packaged in its box and sent there. If you’ll come this way, we can quickly deal with the payment.”

Acting on a whim, Jihoon added three of the little cottages as well; the woman didn’t boggle at his black card but it seemed a close thing. Afterwards as they wandered out of the small store, he smiled slowly as the gentle press of Soonyoung’s hand around his came, and a shy, pleased murmur of thanks.

When they finally left the place Jihoon was tired, but they had gotten something for all their friends and family. It felt so good to sink down on the seat after the hours walking that he groaned. “Next time we do this I’m going to wear sneakers,” he mumbled, looking around to see if someone noticed him surreptitiously slipping his loafers off.

Soonyoung laughed at him. “There’s going to be a next time? I was lucky enough to get Jihoonie to myself for so long today, I feel you’ve walked your entire month’s allowance of exercise today.”

Jihoon coloured at the teasing, hiding his face behind the large menu a waiter had delivered. Seconds later, peeking over it, he found Soonyoung still grinning at him, and hastily ducked behind it again. “I exercise,” he said softly, nibbling his lower lip. “We have a home gym after all. I just use athletic trainers for that, the shoes are hurting my feet a little. What are you going to get?”

“Would you mind if I order for us?” Soonyoung asked.

“Not as long as you put a steak in front of me,” Jihoon replied feelingly, but did not give up his shield just yet. Still, after Soonyoung ordered and the menus were taken, he slipped his hand hesitantly over the table to grab his husband’s. No one was looking at them, so he tamped his shyness down. “I’m sorry I neglected you,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. The more I think about it, the more I realise how patient you’ve been.”

Soonyoung’s expression softened as he started playing with Jihoon’s fingers. “I didn’t want to press,” he said equally as softly. “But everyone seems to be moving out or getting a house nearby, and I dared to hope. I’m new to this marriage thing too. I just didn’t want to remain silent like an idiot and not sort it out.”

Jihoon stared at him, feeling hopelessly endeared. His husband could be a fierce warrior and dominating in the bedroom, but there was this side of him too: soft and caring and squishy, the kind that still struggled to load new programs onto his PC and watched YouTube tutorials about _everything_. “We’ve both been idiots,” he said quietly. “And using the kids as an excuse isn’t on either. Even with people moving out, I have the feeling that Channie might want to stay, if only to get some privacy from his parents, and though they’re in London at the moment, I’d like to invite Seungkwan, Hansol and the Chinese hyungdeul to stay with us permanently. I don’t want the house _too_ empty either. It’s nice to hear noise in it at times.”

“Channie’s so ready to move out of his parents’ place for a while he’ll beg to stay, I think,” Soonyoung said drily. “I don’t have a problem with any of those staying, but one thing I’ve realised since that time Seungkwanie lectured me is precisely how much work there is to such an old estate. I’ve just been doing the barest bits. We ideally need both an estate manager and a private secretary. We have enough things going on now that we need them.”

Jihoon hummed thoughtfully. “An estate manager mostly looks after the grounds and the physical stuff, right? Like whatever industries you might have, or tenants and so on?” At Soonyoung’s nod he grinned just a little. “Why don’t you make the offer to Channie? He graduated rather well, and it’d give him experience in running an estate that Seungcheol-hyung can’t offer him now. It’ll get him out from underneath his parents a little too, but not so far away he’s totally cut off.”

Soonyoung blinked. “That’s… actually not a half-bad notion?” he said after a moment’s thought.

“Excuse you, all my notions are brilliant.”

“Of course,” Soonyoung agreed solemnly. “Like your Lake District backpacking tour.”

Ignoring that taunt with a wrinkled nose, Jihoon leant in a little. “And we don’t need a private secretary. The two of us can manage if the estate work is taken away, but what we’re really going to need soon is a babysitter. I don’t just want to dump them on random friends and family, but I don’t want to ignore you either. I need someone dependable and trustworthy that will look after them.”

Soonyoung considered him for long moments. “Does it have to be a woman?” he asked at length.

Jihoon blinked again. “No? Just someone that’ll understand why we… mix our baby formula like we do.”

Nodding, Soonyoung retracted his hand. “I’ll think about it,” he promised. “And for now, I think our food is here.”

Jihoon couldn’t find any fault with the food, nor with the desserts they took in their room in the bath; it felt like a new level of luxury to soak idly nibbling on chocolate ice cream and sipping Armagnac.

True to his silent resolutions earlier that day, it was he who pulled Soonyoung closer to begin kissing him when the other suggested sleeping; the mind-blowing sex afterwards tired him so much he could barely keep his eyes open to stumble out of the bath. Every inch of him hummed with pleasure and satisfaction, and he cursed himself for a fool to have forgotten how great it could be. Curling up in his husband’s arms afterwards, clean and sated and blissfully drifting, he wondered how life could get any better.

* * *

Chan curled up in his small corner in the vaults, sighing dolefully as he raked his laptop closer. He had managed to get wi-fi down here thanks to a highly unorthodox daisy-chain of extenders – his throughput was shit, but at least he could curl up in his little den and read the classifieds. With his graduation behind his back he direly wanted something to do; his father’s estates were all run either by Sebastian or himself, and the others had business managers far more competent than he was. He envied Seungkwan yet again, who had found a way to make his passion work for him.

Then again, Seungkwan didn’t have to worry about bursting into flames every time he went outside in the sun, and few employers would be understanding of a vampire’s hours, and that knowledge was on the forbidden list. He had been hearing _that_ since his childhood.

As he browsed the area, he got more depressed by the lack of anything interesting. Most were fore baristas or sales clerks, or some tour guides.

“You know,” a voice came. “I was under the impression we gave you a bedroom upstairs. Better signal too.”

Chan jerked as he heard Soonyoung’s voice, looking up guiltily from his little corner. “Um…” he havered, unsure of how to put ‘I don’t want to listen to any of you fucking, the babies crying or Reyna’s screaming nightmares’ in polite speech; he felt guilty for even thinking it, measured against the easy life he had here.

Soonyoung sighed and shook his head, wandering over. “Never mind. Budge up.” He flopped down in the space as Chan wiggled sideways and rested back with his arms behind his head. “Actually, kind of comfortable.”

“Thank you?”

“So you’re looking for jobs?” Soonyoung asked as he looked sideways at his laptop screen. “Have you found one yet? Didn’t you want to take a gap year like Jihoonie?”

Shaking his head slowly, Chan closed the laptop and leant back as well. “Just seasonal things, like short-term baristas or something,” he muttered. “Nothing that I can apply to as a vampire beyond a night shift position at a petrol station that sounds dodgy. And no offense, hyung, but I’ll need to work a bit before I can afford it. I thought about going to Korea to trace our family roots and see if there’s anyone else of the line still alive, but I want to be able to enjoy it, not have to work through it.” He groaned. “Jihoonie-hyung is better at saving than I am.”

Soonyoung considered the underside of the sturdy stone ceiling. “You know your father is not hurting for money,” he said neutrally.

“But it’s my father’s money, not mine,” Chan refuted. “I’m not about to inherit anytime soon, not that I want to, and I want to replace what I use. I want to stand on my own a bit.” He grimaced. “It’s not that I’m not happy being… being here, but…”

“But you’re close to your first power and you want to live a little apart from your parents,” Soonyoung completed for him. “It’s not a crime. Everyone goes through it eventually. It’s good actually, I wanted to make you a job offer.”

Chan tilted his head to stare at his host suspiciously. “It’s not babysitter, right? I’ve been recruited for that one enough.”

Soonyoung’s laugh was a high bark of mirth. “No, and in any case you didn’t get paid for it. I’m talking about a paying job. I want you to help me run this place as an estate manager; that and manage my business interests in the duchy at large, as well as liaise with the Crown for me. That includes all the local preservation and historical societies, the tenant farmers… everything you would have done for your own estate in time. Your father told me he doesn’t have a spare you can practice on at the moment, especially now that Siddeley is still being rebuilt.”

Chan’s eyes widened. “You want me to what?” he squeaked. “But I literally have no experience yet!”

Reaching out to pat his shoulder, Soonyoung shook his head. “I’ll still be here to sign off on everything in the end, and you always have the lot of us to ask for advice. Look on it as an apprenticeship as you wish, but it would mean that when your parents move out, you’d have to settle here permanently whilst you have the post.” He grinned. “But I didn’t think that’d be a hardship with half of the people moving out, and Hansol’s parents returning to Venice soon.”

“Alright,” Chan said dubiously. “When you put it like that… and no, I won’t mind staying here. What do you mean by Crown liaison?”

“You know how your father is the Duke of Devonshire, and he works through a vassal proxy and liaises with the Crown on the occasion it’s required?”

Chan boggled. “Are you saying that you’re a duke as well?”

Soonyoung favoured him with a lazy, long smile as he stood. “Who do you think really owns the Duchy of Lancaster?” he called over his shoulder as he wandered out. “See you bright and early Monday with a contract!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * So this chapter is for the SVT boys having their birthday in February, and because it was mine just two days ago, I've decided to post it on Chan's birthday. I hope you enjoy! 
>   * The action is very sudden here and meant to be a little jarring. We get to know more about these people later on. 
>   * Minghao has been trying very hard. In this chapter... it doesn't go too well. 
>   * In the end, there was no sex in this chapter. I kept trying to shoe-horn it in, and it kept refusing. 
>   * People can live past each other without meaning to; I've heard it's important in marriages to make time for each other consciously. 
>   * For a look at the Lilliput Lane Cottages, you can go [](https://littlemountaingardencentre.com/wp-content/uploads/product_images/product-871-1576261787-LL3007-600x537.jpg) for a picture. They're porcelain. 
>   * Soonyoung's [St. George and the Dragon](https://image.invaluable.com/housePhotos/potteriesspcl/37/582337/H2759-L89252622.jpg)
>   * Chan is growing up so fast.
> 



	3. Modus Vivendi III

July-September:

Jihoon had come to dread the semi-regular attempts to get a babysitter slash nanny for the kids; the last month of trials had produced exactly no one he felt truly comfortable with. There had been the extremely militant-looking lady with a list of references longer than her legs put together, who clearly disapproved of homosexuals having kids, a nice young man that had been a friend of a friend; Jimin had hated him on sight, fighting like a demented little six-month old when the young man picked him up. That hadn’t been the worst of the bunch either – he still shuddered to think of the hungry-looking East European vampire, who thought that cosplaying as an actual Dracula gave him child-minding experience.

Soonyoung meant well, and getting people both experienced with babies and not minding that their bottles were at least half-blood was slim pickings.

Still…

_Do the pickings have to be that slim?_

Uneasily aware that this morning would produce yet another candidate, and woefully hoping that Seungkwanie would come back sooner, he settled in at the little café in Keswick, waiting for…

He squinted at the paper, too sleep-tired to have his eyes function well. Neat handwriting, somewhat scratchy, but very odd, as if the writer had been using a fountain pen and not a ballpoint.

_Miss AA Blaire._

Checking that the twins were ok in their stroller – Iseul looked to be enchanted by a puppy across the café – he braced one elbow on his table and fought not to fall into his Americano. Thinking longingly of a piece of cheesecake, he calculated the chances of slipping that into the diet Sophie had made him and gave up the thought unhappily.

“Do I have the honour of addressing his Grace?”

Jihoon looked up at the voice and blinked at the woman standing there. She was short, definitely shorter than him, and dressed quite frumpily when compared to everyone else. Hair neatly sleeked back, hands fussily clamped together as if she came from the era of Victorian debutantes, and with a delicately boned face. She wasn’t the thinnest girl he had ever seen – some idols in Korea were seriously thin – but the frilly blouse and knee-length skirt were really not doing her any favours. The only vivid thing about her were her eyes, a sort of moonstone blend of greens and blues, as if they could not decide which colour they wanted to be.

“Miss AA Blaire?” he questioned weakly. Thank _god_ her voice had been too low to travel over the conversation in the winter-full pub.

She looked, to be honest, like the younger sister of the amazingly strict Babysitter Hopeful Number One, the one with the list of references as long as her legs and the lemon-sour face.

His mind struggled, caught between immediate wariness and faint shame – he had _never_ been one to body-shame, and he wasn’t sure why he was doing it now, in his thoughts, when all that mattered was that she’d be kind to his kids.

He blinked again, hearing a little gurgle at his side. Looking there, he saw Seul-ah wide awake for once, little pudgy fists waving in the air towards the woman as she smiled a wide, wet gummy smile.

He blinked again as he saw the frumpy young woman – she seemed to truly be a ‘Miss AA Blaire’, no name, as if that were a title – step around the table and crouch down in front of the twin-seat push-pram. She looked to him for permission, which he gave with a dumb nod of his head, before reaching a small finger out to Iseul, letting his daughter clasp at it. “Hello, precious,” she said very softly and gently, starched expression disappearing a little at her smile. “Who’s a wee darling then, hm?”

At Iseul’s side Jimin woke up as well, woken by his sister’s laugh. His eyes widened a little before he reached out as well, much more demanding about it, until he had an index finger in his grasp as well, and was being sang to very softly in a slurred language Jihoon didn’t recognise. It was like magic, the way they quieted down with happy little burbles.

Jihoon’s shoulders slumped just a little with relief. Last time Jimin had screamed when Hopeful Number One had attempted to pick him up. Number Two he hadn’t even woken up for. Jihoon had outright refused to let Number Three close to his children. Numbers Four through Eight had been equally dreadful. “They like you,” he said softly, and watched with pity as her expression shifted back to starched and prim. “That’s a good sign, Miss Blaire.”

She smiled at him and it was like sunshine, like watching Seokmin smile at Jisoo when he thought he wasn’t observed. “Babies know what they want,” she murmured as she straightened, gently winkling her fingers free before coming to an odd sort of attention. “You may call me Ella, Your Grace.”

Jihoon’s ears flushed brick-red, and he looked around, suddenly mortified at the title. Luckily the pub had been too noisy for others to hear. “Please,” he muttered. “Call me Jihoon. Shall we… shall we go for a walk so that I can tell you more about the job?”

Miss AA Blaire – Ella – looked at him and nodded. Quite conscientiously she waited for him to stand, took the shopping he had done from him and made her way to the door. Her frumpy dress attracted a few snickers from a couple of teens – he glared at them in passing – and soon they were out into the warm summer air, making for the less crowded parts of town.

They wandered until they were along the stretches of the river too far for casual tourists before Jihoon stopped, looking about. No seats, but some long-ago advice from his mother on the subject of girls prompted him to take the sturdy hiking coat from the stroller’s basket and spread it on a large rock. “Please,” he said, nodding to it. “Have a seat? You’ve heard that the job might have, ah, a slightly different slant than normal babysitting jobs?”

Miss Blaire – _Ella, damn it_ – took a seat and nodded, unconcerned. “Yes,” she said easily. “I have no problem working with vampires, or mixing blood into their bottle if they need it, or being chewed on by tiny little fangs. They’re coming out? I saw your son’s gums looking a little red.”

Jihoon sighed and nodded as he hunkered at the stroller’s side. “Jiminie’s is definitely coming out,” he said ruefully. “It’s giving him trouble because they tend to pop out when he doesn’t want to, and his canines aren’t out yet, just the one central incisor. Orajel can only do so much, and I’ve read that a lot of baby teething rings might have unsafe products due to the plastics used. Europe bans their use, but I didn’t want to risk it.”

“They need the satisfaction of biting into something, though,” she murmured. “I believe in the old days they used thick bullhide around wood. If you could come across some clean bullhide leather and wrap it around a plastic ring, that might solve some of the issues until you source clean plastic.”

“That’s… an idea?” Jihoon considered. “And you don’t have problems living in? There are quite a few vampires there, and most of the time my friend’s two kids are there as well. We do offer all meals and regular days off, as well as two weekends per month, if you can let me know in advance about the days off?” He paused. “Our house is a bit of a mix of Korean and English, I’m sorry to say. I’m trying to get them to learn both from the start.”

Miss Blaire smiled down at him. “Will it be alright to have three students rather than two? And I don’t mind, sir; I’m assured that none of you would harm me expressly. It would be an opportunity, working in the countryside rather than London.”

_Funny,_ Jihoon’s mind suggested. _When she smiles like that, she really doesn’t look all that dowdy._ He castigated himself again for thinking that. “There’s nothing wrong with preferring the countryside,” he said warmly. “I do as well.”

She nodded hesitantly. “I do have my qualifications; they should have been in the packet sent to you.”

Jihoon nodded; the references and qualifications had been enough for the job, but there were other parts that worried him more. “You understand that as a family of, um, means, there might be attempts? You might be in danger, or required to get away with them to a safe location, or…” He trailed off, uneasy asking anyone to fight.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured, dusting out the non-existent creases in her skirt. “I understand that there are some training courses one can go on?”

It felt right to Jihoon, subtly but ineluctably so, so he just nodded and wished her a good day.

A week later, when she moved in, she brought only a carpet bag and a long thick tweed jacket; standing on the stairs he was hard-pressed not to jitter as she climbed out of the taxi and Minghao got his first good look at her. The ancient was their last line of checking, as all her references and history had panned out – her previous employers all had glowing words of praise, and she had never even gotten so much as a traffic fine.

Jeonghan, on his left, barked a short laugh as she got out of the taxi. “It’s Mary Poppins,” he said, sound enchanted and confused. “You’ve found a modern-day Mary Poppins.”

“She found us,” Jihoon said softly.

Minghao looked at her for a long time before he gave the approaching young woman a happy smile. “She will be good for the babies,” he said, and trotted down the stairs to go and get her bag.

A faint argument drifted to them, something about one of the gentlemen not carrying a servant’s bag, and Jihoon smiled, feeling something at the nape of his neck relax.

* * *

Seungkwan bent over the large table the Trust had erected in a private room in Windsor Castle’s basement, concentrating on the tiny miniature book beneath the powerful magnifying glass. Queen Mary’s Dolls’ House was one of the most wonderful objects he had ever seen, designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens, and the detail on it was astounding. He had the tiniest natural-hair sable brush in his hand, finer than the ones used for art, and carefully wielded it over the tiny leather exterior of the book.

“That’s it,” his manager said, watching with a critical eye. “It’s very delicate work, see? Too much force and you’d disturb some of the covers; we had to get a specialist in last year because someone accidentally scratched ‘Vespers’. Just round that last corner…”

Seungkwan glided the brush along the last indent of the spine, wiggling out a stubborn speck of dirt, and heaved an almighty sigh as he finally placed it back in the labelled conservation container’s interior. “It’s so painstaking,” he said, out-of-breath from holding his for too long. “How does someone even paint on this scale? And what do you do if you have to fix some of the tapestries?”

Edward smiled at him as he pulled off the dust-mask covering his face. “You have delicate hands, so I wasn’t too worried. If there’s any conservation work to be done beyond light dusting and checking, that gets referred to the conservators on duty – you remember how to check items out from a collection for that?” At Seungkwan’s nod he carried on. “We also regularly have the castle’s property team come and look to see if any little lightbulbs need to be switched out, or the pipes checked. Alright, back onto the tray for the library. You still have the photographs?”

Seungkwan gave another nod and carefully started transferring all the cleaned books and little miniature objects to the felt-lined tray. He felt tired, but there was only really the evenings and the early mornings for conservation, given that the dolls’ house was on permanent display.

Arranging the room precisely like how it looked on the pictures, not to mention arranging the miniature books in their precise order, took the rest of the day’s energy from him. He trundled out at after nine, eyes droopy-tired as he made his way into the brilliantly lit summer night. Even though he could go out the staff entrance and the guards were very nice when they searched him, all he could think of when he got out was hot food and a shower before he worked on the night’s research and extra degree work.

He made his way outside the castle grounds, smiling to find Minghao waiting there for him. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

Minghao gave him a small smile and reached to take his bag. “Walking you home,” he said softly. “It’s too late to walk home by yourself.”

Seungkwan wanted to pout and complain; he was a grown young man that could look after himself very well, but he just didn’t have the energy for it tonight. “Alright,” he acquiesced, and matched steps with his _hyung_ to wander home.

It wasn’t far to the apartment Hansol had gotten for them, and they spent the time talking: Seungkwan about his day’s work, and Minghao about the most recent gallery he had been at. The elder vampire had discovered an absolute passion for art and photography, often spending hours trundling around in museums and along interesting little walks, and had even enrolled in a few digital editing courses to get the max out of his photographs.

Life was good to them, better than it had been two months ago. The elder had learnt to laugh again, not only at his husband’s seriously bad jokes, and Seungkwan had someone that he could baby, being without Chan and the babies.

“…so you see, they’re taking me through as many different departments as they can,” Seungkwan explained. “Because Edward says that the first point in knowing how to oversee a collection like that is know what’s in it, and the ins-and-outs. Monday I’ll move on to the Chinese Lobby – it’s got the most gorgeous _blanc de chine_ from Fujian Province! And then the Queen is coming for her Easter stay there as well, so I might meet _her_ , and…”

Minghao nudged him up the steps to the townhouse with a grin. “Breathe,” he ordered, and unlocked the door. Inside, with everything locked and secured, he led a still-nattering Seungkwan to the kitchen, pausing in horror in the entrance. “…what?”

The entire middle island of the kitchen was covered in gadgets, from something that looked like an unholy three-in-one breakfast maker to a sausage griller to a thing with eight arms that boasted it could make the quickest cinnamon buns ever. When he leant to the side, he saw what looked like a professional-level dough kneading machine in the back, with Jun and Hansol clustered around it with an inch-thick handbook. They were covered in flour from head to toe; hell, Jun had flour _eyelashes_ it seemed, and dinner was absolutely nowhere in sight.

Even Seungkwan stumbled to a halt as he eyeballed the absolute mess of it. For a moment – just the barest of moments – the weariness on his face increased tenfold before he took a deep breath and marched into the kitchen. “What’s going on here?” he asked loudly enough to be heard over the grinding gears of – well, whatever the mixer in the corner was trying to pulverise.

Hansol and Jun jumped up, caught like children being naughty, and each tried to look more innocent than the other.

“You’re home!” Jun exclaimed. “That was quick, did you get out early today?”

Seungkwan shot him a _look_. “It’s nearly ten at night, _hyung_. I’m late, not early.”

Hansol, seeing the frown developing, came closer to kiss him on the tip of his nose, then his pursed mouth. “Hello,” he said. “I, um, wanted to make something nice for dessert but then we got sidetracked. I’ll order in? What do you want?”

“I…” Seungkwan slumped. “You know, maybe just coffee?” he said. “I’m going to go and get changed.”

Minghao watched him leave before turning to the other two. “You know how long he still has to work tonight,” he said, voice growing a bit sharp. “And knowing the two of you, he’ll feel as if he has to clean up this mess as well.”

“Hao-Hao,” Jun pouted. “Hansol just wanted to bake him some Castella. Dinner isn’t that big a deal, right?”

“We drink blood, of course it’s not a big deal for us.” Minghao fought his temper down; he didn’t want to spoil the rapport they had developed over the last few months. “Castella can be made just with a recipe, not the entire reject section of Amazon UK’s funky kitchen gadget collection,” he said tightly. “And did you manage to get to the Castella?”

Hansol bit his lip, looking shamefaced, and shook his head. “I’m going to go and get some dinner from that place he likes,” he mumbled. “And we’ll come and clean up later on. Will you keep him out of the kitchen, _hyung_?”

Minghao, pinning Junhui down with a look, nodded absentmindedly to Hansol as the younger left. “Clean this up,” he ordered, pointing to the back half of the room. “I’ll go and get the vacuum.”

* * *

Jeonghan grunted softly as he lowered himself into a chair, feeling as though his limbs were rebelling against him. The twins had in some infernal wisdom decided to offset sleeping well through the night with insane energy during the day; it was all he could do to keep up with them. Added to that the work needed to bring Sutton back to life as a family home again, and he was _bushed_.

The knocking on the door of their suite at Gunsloe’s door made him pinch his eyes shut. “Come in,” he called wearily.

A neat blonde head peeked around the edge of the door before a neat woman wandered in, smile uncertain on her face. “Your grace,” she greeted in her quiet way. “I wanted to know if you wanted your children to sleep in the nursery as well tonight.”

The thought of _anyone_ calling him by a title made Jeonghan wince; Miss AA Blaire had an odd way of respecting people. “Just Jeonghan,” he said tiredly. “Just Jeonghan, please.” He tried to shift his posture in the chair. “It’s alright, we can take them tonight. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

She came in, meandering through a line of sunshine with an ease that Jeonghan wished he still had, given how dangerous it was for the babies; when she sunk down on her haunches next to him, he frowned down at her.

She cleared her throat. “Jeonghan-ssi,” she said. “If you would allow me to speak out of place…”

Jeonghan sighed. “Sure,” he said very dryly, unwilling to get into a class fight.

She stared at him before nodding and abruptly leaving before _saying_ anything. Confusing woman. Minutes later, when he had just gotten to the point of sleep she came back again, this time with a steaming mug of something in her hands. She handed it to him, watched as he sipped, and smiled when he sighed and slumped further back into the chair.

“Your daughter is a great friend of mine,” Miss Blaire said. “She helped me through a rough patch earlier this year, and if I can repay her kindness by letting her dad rest for a night, it’s not going to make me any worse off. I assure you that I’m well able to look after four babies. I…”

The door swung open again and Chan trudged inside, looking tired and distraught. Jeonghan hadn’t seen him for the better part of three months; he had been so insistent on doing a good job that he had been on a round of all the tenant farms and conservation efforts on the huge estate. He looked… well, he looked every inch as haggard as Jeonghan felt, and pinched cheeks wasn’t a good look on either of them. “Dad,” he said. “Hey, sorry I’m late, I…” As he registered the woman crouched at his side, he broke off and frowned.

“Miss Blaire, meet my son Chan,” Jeonghan said mildly. “Chan, this is Miss AA Blaire. Nanny for short.”

Miss Blaire slowly straightened as Dino squinted at her, mumbling a greeting but thankfully not any kind of bow. “I’ll take the babies tonight,” she reassured Jeonghan before scooting out. “Just try to sleep, ok?”

The two men spared a moment looking at the door before Chan turned to his dad with a questioning frown. “Did I just see someone from the twenties in here?” he questioned before his frown deepened. “And why is she telling you to sleep? Is something wrong? Are you sick?”

_And there the bit of Seungcheol in him is,_ Jeonghan thought. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just tired. Come over here.” Reaching out, he put the mug to one side before tugging on Chan’s arm, pulling him in closer and closer until Jeonghan could pull him down on his lap. “I’ve missed my baby so much!”

“Dad!” Chan yelled, grunting with indignation. “Dad, let me go, I’m going to crush you!”

Jeonghan locked his arms around Chan’s waist and refused to let go. Instead, burying his face in his son’s neck he breathed in slowly, hunting for the last little remnants of baby scent somewhere. Instead, all he got was cologne, deodorant and the smell of rain-wet clothes. _He’s really not my baby anymore,_ he thought sadly. _Where did my adorable little Channie go? Just a year until I’ll have to admit that he’s a man._ “Shut it,” he mumbled. “I’m trying to have a moment here.”

Seconds later, though he could feel Chan’s entire neck flush with warmth from the strength of his blush, he felt an arm creep around his shoulders for a tighter hug. Sebastian was as stoic as his grandfather had been all those years ago, and Sophie had inherited his brains and Seungcheol’s intense passion for doing right. Channie… his baby was all him, but with all the loving bits of Seungcheol stitched in there. Definitely Seungcheol’s body too, his son’s thighs were heavy as rock, _ow_.

“I’m not sick,” he said when he finally let him go. “I really am fine. I just miss my house, and I miss you, my century-child. You’re so busy these days.”

Chan was one big blushing mess when he pulled back. “I have to work hard,” he said stoutly with the determination Seungcheol somehow imbedded in all their children. “But the circuit is finally finished, and all I need to do is meet with the Crown liaison now, and I’ll be back here on a daily basis to help Soonyoung- _hyung_.”

Jeonghan wrinkled his nose. “That means it’s off to London with you, right? How long do you think it’ll take to go over the books with the liaison?”

“Perhaps a week?” Chan hazarded. “Do you want anything from there? I can swing by Windsor if you want me to take a letter as well.”

Behind Chan, moving quietly, Seungcheol came through the door to the suite, gorgeous smile lurking into being as he watched Jeonghan’s sudden pout of concentration.

“You’re leaving already?” Jeonghan sulked.

“Tonight, after dinner,” Chan confirmed. “So, if there’s anything?”

Rather than burden his son with an insane shopping list, Jeonghan shook his head. Instead, pulling him in for another hug he used him as a hand to get up. “Just some chocolates and hugs down there,” he said, pecking him on the cheek. “And phone me when you get there, ok? No matter how late it is!”

Chan grumbled at the peck on the cheek, but snuck a last hug in before he turned to give his father one as well. Jeonghan watched him leave and held his arms out to his husband as Seungcheol idled closer. “He grew up too fast,” he mumbled. “I still want my baby, Cheollie.”

Seungcheol’s arms around him were very warm and loving; holding him as gently as he had the first time they met. “You have Minseok and Eleanor now,” he murmured, lips traversing the too-taut lines of sinew and muscle in Jeonghan’s throat. “But he’ll always be your baby too. We did good there.”

Jeonghan snuggled deeper and deeper into Seungcheol’s embrace, merely mumbling as his husband carried him to the wide window seat of their suite. He waited for Seungcheol to settle into it before he made to collapse against him, feeling sheltered by the thick lines of muscle and the explicit love between them. “Do you remember when we met?” he mumbled.

“Hm,” Seungcheol murmured into his hair. “You were sleeping on the bench on that shitty little inn on the hangs of Baekdusan, six inches deep in mud. I couldn’t believe the mud-rat I saw snoring on the bench had pretended to be the same graceful nobleman I had seen earlier that night. You really had all of us at court fooled with that act.” He reached to twine his hands with Jeonghan’s. “And then you made me buy you soup and stew first before talking to me. Fair deal, you _were_ thin those days, thinner than Minghao.”

Jeonghan wrinkled his nose. “I knew my priorities, okay?” he said with a laugh. “Handsome face does not win out against kindness; I started talking to you because you were kind enough to buy me food, not because you were hot.” He paused. “Do you remember the first time you kissed me?”

Seungcheol laughed happily. “Precisely two weeks later, when you pretended to be my pregnant wife so we could pass through that Mongol roadblock and get word to the forces outside Anju? Best kiss of my life, _still._ ”

Grinning, Jeonghan played with his fingers. “And do you remember the first time you said I was beautiful?”

Seungcheol kissed the top of his head delicately. “The first night I met you,” he said gently, ignoring Jeonghan’s startle. “I just didn’t say it to you. The first time I told you was two days after the siege on Kuju ended, and I knew it was time to get out of Korea for good. Why _did_ you come with me when I finally told you what I was? I wasn’t the handsomest man to vie for your hand back then, or even the richest.”

“You were kind,” Jeonghan said quietly. “Unfailingly kind. And by that time I was so in love with you I didn’t care whether you were a vampire, a robot or an alien. I still don’t.” He paused. “You know, the kids will be in the nursery tonight, so that means we have a little free time. Let’s go get a tent somewhere and sleep outside somewhere? I’m suddenly nostalgic, as tired as I am.”

Seungcheol used his strength to turn him around, set him cross-wise on his lap, and kissed him very gently. “Do you remember the first time we slept together?” he teased.

As tired as he was, Jeonghan laughed. “Let’s go and re-enact it,” he said wickedly. “If memory serves, you were _very_ good at doing it in a tent.”

* * *

Seungkwan peeked out of the passenger window of the Landrover, curious enough to climb through the window for a better view. A slight press from the hand on his leg drew his attention back to his boyfriend, and he blushed at his eagerness as he sat back.

“Just three more minutes,” Hansol consoled. “We’re almost there, Kwannie.”

Seungkwan smiled at his boyfriend of three years, eyes tracing his lovely features, and reminisced.

Ever since their meeting at Jihoonie- _hyung_ ’s place, his heart had belonged to the man at his side; it had cost him accreditation by the National Conservation Society and a nine-month conservation internship at the Royal Collection before his parents had accepted that he was serious about England. Through it all Hansol had stayed at his side and they had stayed true to each other without wavering once.

It had been a huge mission to convince his parents to move to England, but Soonyoung- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ had talked with them extensively, not to mention Jihoonie- _hyung_ ’s parents; when they had arrived with his sisters in tow because the latter refused to be left behind, his life had felt complete.

Now, as they made their way through the twilight towards Blendon House, he felt jittery with nervousness. The family at large had agreed to back off a little and give them a chance to breathe as a couple; it was only the Chinese _hyungdeul_ that had come along on this trip, and that had had more to do with the fact that they couldn’t join the rest in Venice for the long summer holiday. They would be leaving after a week in any case, and he’d have his Hansol alone…

… as alone as one can be with security companies and wolf packs all around.

He peeked over his shoulder at the passengers there – Jun- _hyung_ was fast asleep, held in Minghao- _hyung_ ’s arms – before taking another breath, peering through the window again as they entered the huge estate gate. It closed behind them – he spotted the eagle-eyed security – and they drove up the long motorway; when they finally crested around a hill and he saw the house before him breath hitched in his throat.

It was _beautiful_.

He knew enough now to recognize the baroque style it had been built in, but all his first impressions vanished in the wave of sheer _fondness_ he felt for the place not only as Hansol’s home, but as his future home as well. If all went well, he would become the chatelaine of the place, custodian of its collections, husband to the most amazing man in the world…

“Breathe, Seungkwanie,” Minghao- _hyung_ teased from the back seat. “You look pale around the eyes.”

Hansol laughed raucously at that, though his hand squeezed Seungkwan’s thigh again before they pulled around to the front entrance.

It took time to unpack everyone’s luggage; Hansol went to stow the car, leaving him in the care of Mrs. Addis, the household manager.

“Everything’s been arranged,” she said cheerfully as she led the three of them up to the first floor, then to their bedrooms. “The rooms are cleaned, the kitchen stocked, and the logs brought in for the fires. I’ll be retiring to my house, and the other staff are gone already, but I left a small supper in the heating oven. I’ll be back on the other side of the weekend, so don’t you be fretting. The big clean’s just been done, so the place should be spick and span!”

Seungkwan muttered his appreciation as he peeked around. The _hyungdeul_ were pointed to the direction of a gorgeous tapestry-themed bedroom; he got marched to the end of the corridor and the double doors there, which were flung open for his appraisal. “The master suite,” Mrs. Addis said happily. “Just pop in here, love, the boiler’s got the water nice and warm. I made space in the closets for you.”

Biting his lip, Seungkwan turned to smile at her. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said softly. “It’s a beautiful house so far, and your welcome has been so kind…”

“Nonsense with this ma’am business,” she said briskly. “Just call me Addy. I’ll be downstairs for fifteen minutes more, so shout quickly if you need something else!”

With his body feeling too small for his heart, Seungkwan turned to look again at the suite. “No, thank you, Addy,” he said happily. “I’m going to go and investigate that bathroom.”

He made his way into the red-and-gold bedroom; some time in the past it had been two rooms before a previous owner had renovated it to merge with the bedroom next to it. It was huge now, with high airy ceilings and a faint golden print on the walls, and the bed seriously rivalled the one in Gunsloe’s main bedroom. Cheeks heating happily at the thought of spending some quality time with Hansol in there, he wheeled his bags to the walk-through closet, then stepped into the bathroom beyond with a happy sigh.

The bath was absolutely huge, a claw-footed behemoth that had pride of place beneath the large windows, and its own little platform to stand on. Though the bathroom seemed small around it, there was more than enough space for a shower enclosure and a large double vanity – Seungkwan wrinkled his nose at those, the vanity seemed out of place in the archaic-looking room. A few quick moments of searching produced a little rolling table he could put his bathroom bag on, and he flicked the water on to fill the bath, humming with happiness.

This place with a few dozen candles and the lights switched off? It’d become his favourite place very quickly.

He was still soaking half an hour later when a tall body joined him in the tub. Feeling distinctly happy with all in the world, he moved to give Hansol space, and merely hummed when he got dragged back into a warm embrace. “It’s beautiful,” he said softly. “Your house is beautiful, Hansolie.”

Hansol tucked Seungkwan in underneath his chin and wrapped arms around his stomach to keep him there. “As beautiful as Gunsloe?” he asked curiously. “I know how you feel about that place.”

Seungkwan fell silent. In many ways Gunsloe had become the house of his youth more so than the small apartment on Jeju. He still loved his island origins, but the last few years of working and living and loving in the Lake District manor had imprinted it indelibly on his heart. His family lived nearby with Jihoonie- _hyung_ ’s family, now employed in one of the many family businesses, and his adorable adopted cousins brightened up the place, not to mention the scores of _hyungdeul_.

Jeonghan- _hyung_ , far from being sad about being without Siddeley so long, had been happy to spend the time his house’s restoration from the terrible accident took; where he was, Seungcheol- _hyung_ stayed. About six months ago Jisoo- _hyung_ had been surprised by a nearby house by Seokmin- _hyung_ – he could still remember their engagement party. Above it all, Soonyoung- _hyung_ and Jihoonie- _hyung_ and their two kids; Soonyoung- _hyung_ had outright refused for him to believe the place was anything but his house, stating that he was his ‘beloved Jihoonie’s’ younger brother for all that Seungkwan technically _had_ a family in England.

“It’ll always be special to me,” Seungkwan said at length as Hansol’s hands lightly massaged a soapy cloth along his arms. “But this is beautiful for a different reason.”

He didn’t want to say it’d be his future home; Hansol hadn’t asked him or even hinted that he wanted to ask him to marry him soon, but perhaps that would come in time too.

Hansol hummed with pleasure and continued to wash him; it was only when he came to his favourite part of Seungkwan that he turned him around to rest chest-to-chest so that he could soap up his hands and use them instead.

It had been a very, _very_ long time since Seungkwan had felt any body-related worries. Over the past few years he had finally come into his adult structure and build; he had still been very slightly chubby when he had met Hansol, but three years of Jihoonie- _hyung_ ’s fitness binges, three years of healthy food and loving and stellar sex, had seen him with solid yet sleek lines. His waist had nipped in a little, muscular from exercise now, his shoulders were strong and straight, and his face had lost the residues of whatever puppy fat might have lingered. Only one part of him had stayed reasonably the same, save for becoming even perkier from frequent dance classes, and the way his boyfriend loved his butt made him feel rather fond of it now.

“Hm,” he muttered appreciatively as Hansol’s hands gently skimmed the generous curve of it, fingers tickling along the underside of the cheeks before he started massaging it with soap. He adjusted a little on Hansol’s lap, canted it out just a little more, before settling in to fall into thought again.

He wasn’t sure how much longer it had been when Hansol refilled the bath for the second time; for the last few minutes he had been drifting in gentle, body-worshipped bliss, and it was only the feel of long fingers getting a little more adventurous that woke him with a slow, indulgent caress to part the cheeks. He flushed as newly hot water surged there with little eddies. “Hansol…” he warned.

Hansol kissed one temple. “It’s okay,” he reassured with a murmur. “Minghao- _hyung_ said they were going directly to bed too; we don’t have to go down again.” His voice became throaty as he traced one finger gently up and down the secret skin between Seungkwan’s ass cheeks, content just to play. “I still don’t know how you take me here, Kwannie. You’re still so tiny and tight.” To demonstrate, he danced a fingertip up to press against the small hole there, teasing with a slow, massaging caress.

Seungkwan’s cheeks coloured at that. Hansol didn’t speak very much, content to drift in company most of the time, but in moments like these, drawling such teasing words in a low tone, he was the most vocal person. “I don’t know,” he said softly, fighting not to press back into the caress; he had long since learnt that on the subject of playing with his ass Chwe Hansol had his own ideas and timelines. “You’re just too large, that’s your issue.”

Hansol laughed at that, removing his grip so that he could play with and jiggle at the cheeks a little more, old-gold brown eyes very intent on the lush flesh in his grip. “This from the guy that pouted and didn’t speak to me for two days when I didn’t give him my knot as a congratulations-for-your-masters present.”

Squirming, Seungkwan tried not to relive the memory as it drifted through his mind. There had been reasons for it, given that they had been in a public hotel after the nice dinner Hansol had taken him too. It was no secret he could get a little loud during sex, but he had been tired and relieved he had passed, and had wanted a good rough fucking, _damn it_. It had been the first time in _weeks_ they had been alone.

Guessing his boyfriend’s thoughts from the soft, sullen pout against his collarbone, Hansol smiled and palmed the cheeks a little roughly apart to let a flush of hot water startle his Kwan out of it. “I had a talk with your mom earlier today,” he said.

“God, don’t mention my mother when we’re like this,” Seungkwan whined.

“She gave me permission to start giving you my blood again,” Hansol said evenly, ignoring his squirm and whine. “And Jihoonie- _hyung_ did as well, _and_ Chan-ah, and I spoke to Minghao- _hyung_ about how to do it safely.”

Eyes opening wide, Seungkwan kept still, very still, at least as much from the shock of the news as the constant little waves of hot water against his sensitive rim. “You did?” he got out.

They had only tried it once before, though Hansol drank regularly from him for pleasure if not for need; Seungkwan had proven to be too susceptible to it, and the _hyungdeul_ had freaked out a little when they learnt that, and it had been off the table for the longest time. To find out that Hansol had gone around to get permission again, not just from the elders in the family but even from Chan, who had declared himself Seungkwan’s protector and little brother the moment he turned a hundred, touched him and made his lips wobble. “What did…” He swallowed. “What did Minghao- _hyung_ say?”

Hansol stopped teasing him, going back to slow, sleek, fond rubs over the rounded curves. “He said that as long as it’s only a few drops, and provided we don’t do it more than once a month, it should be okay. It’s the other half of why he’s here for the week.”

Seungkwan sat up with a rush of water to kiss his boyfriend’s thinner lips with soft, submissive little kisses. “Thank you,” he said, truly touched.

Hansol tilted his head to indulge him, slowly spearing his tongue into Seungkwan’s mouth as hands firmed on his ass, holding him still for a long, lazy, wet kiss that he dominated. Saliva connected their lips as he pulled away, and he laughed as Seungkwan’s tongue popped out to break it and lick his lips clean. “But not now, okay? I want to get a few things in just in case, and I want to arrange some time with the _hyungdeul_ so that we can have the evening alone or something. I hate it when someone hears you squeal for me.”

Embarrassed, but soft with it, Seungkwan transferred his gaze to his boyfriend’s chest instead, tracing little patterns into the skin with his fingertips. “As long as you promise to take care of me afterwards?” he asked.

“Always,” Hansol whispered, and pulled him in to kiss him again. “Always, my Seungkwanie.”

* * *

Nothing happened that night, or the night following, or even the three after that. To Seungkwan’s irritation he didn’t even get more than a dizzying series of kisses; from the way that Minghao- _hyung_ walked gingerly to the breakfast table every morning, he was reasonably sure he was getting way less action. He knew the couple was trying for babies as well, and thankfully he couldn’t understand the Chinese sometimes coming from their bedroom in the depths of the night, but he was pretty sure there was some major fucking going on.

He paused as he poured tea for them, eyeing the state of Minghao- _hyung_ ’s throat and the way his hands shook, not to mention the dreamy, far-off look in his eyes or the way he couldn’t quite sit still. His throat was practically a choker of hickeys, and the semi-transparent neck of his sweater hinted at bitemarks further down. He was also, for the first time that Seungkwan knew him, demolishing his way through a full breakfast as well as two blood packs, which only made him more suspicious.

He transferred his gaze to Jun- _hyung_ , who looked as if Christmas had come early and seemed similarly out of it. Seungkwan didn’t even have to look to know that his back would be scratched up; the wrinkle of Hansol’s nose as he entered the breakfast room said it all.

_Not fair_ , he sulked internally. _I’m not getting any, so they should at least be polite about it!_

“May I have some more of the liver?” Minghao- _hyung_ asked into the food consumption silence, voice dreamy and definitely not all there.

Seungkwan bit his lip and stared at Hansol, who moved the tray over in silence though he seemed absolutely stuffed with laughter. “Do you want some eggs too?” he asked curiously.

“Yes please,” Jun- _hyung_ said chirpily. “He needs to regain his energy. The air here is very good, so conducive to strenuous exercise.”

There was no stopping Hansol’s laughter at that; he howled hard enough with it that he fell from his chair; he had draped his hands over his face but the laughter didn’t want to cease.

Seungkwan, more than faintly irritated, watched as Minghao- _hyung_ actually _blushed_ ; he had never seen him so soft and rosy-cheeked before. He didn’t say anything about it either, just continued to eat as if he was trying to make up for four thousand years of starvation.

“Nasty,” Seungkwan mumbled around a mouthful of tea. “You’re so nasty.”

Jun graced him with a large, sunny, particularly proud smile. “Careful, Seungkwanie, or we won’t visit the hotel tonight, just stay in _more_ …”

Seungkwan’s cheeks flushed at that thought, and he stood hastily to make his way to the kitchen to get the rest of the fry-up Addy had made for her darling baby Chwe Hansol, who had her convinced he was still a starving boy that needed extra nourishment. “Eat up!” he commanded as he put it all down on the table in front of Minghao- _hyung_. “As much as you want!”

It was only later that day, when Minghao- _hyung_ came to apologise in his gentle voice, that he felt better about it. The ancient oversaw Hansol carefully nicking his finger and daubing a few drops of blood on Seungkwan’s outstretched tongue, then checked his pupils for a few moments before he nodded.

Seungkwan sat there trying to process the rainbow sparks in his mind and only distantly registered the taxi leaving. It felt like fire roared through his veins, heating him up from the inside out, and he gasped as Hansol came back in and sat down next to him on the couch. He went willingly when his boyfriend picked him up onto his lap, mind still rushing, and he fancied he could feel a shift deep inside his body, a flowering of potential. “Hansolie,” he managed to get out. “It’s… it’s…”

The last time they had done this he had freaked out about his loss of control. Right now it simmered just right, body newly sensitive without being too much. He sighed as his boyfriend carefully caressed him, gentling him over the first initial moments of the rush, and rested against him until he felt his mind no longer spin and he could sit up with clear eyes.

“Hey,” Hansol smiled. “Welcome back.” He nudged a crooked finger in underneath Seungkwan’s chin to tilt it upwards, looking first in his eyes before he leant to sniff gently at his neck. “Good? You smell ok…”

Seungkwan managed a smile. “Yes, I’m okay,” he said, and shivered as it got him a lingering caress and a tickle at his waist. “I... wow. It’s just that everything is much clearer now. I feel like I could jump tall buildings or something.”

Hansol grinned wide and beautiful at him. “I do have a surprise for later on,” he hinted. “But some exercise beforehand might be nice. Do you want to go on a walk with me?”

Abruptly eager, Seungkwan nodded. “Let me just go and change into some exercise gear and better shoes quickly?”

Hansol helped him to stand and smacked his ass fondly. “Wear those leggings I love so much, okay?”

Seungkwan yelped at the quick, heated sensation from that gently spank, and mock-saluted before he ran off to their bedroom.

They played around on the lawn all afternoon; Hansol mock-chased him through the orangerie and around one of the formal gardens until he was breathless and pink and laughing madly. On the edge of suggesting they return to the house, he swallowed as Hansol captured him by his hips and pointed off towards the woods.

“See that?” he asked as he lipped gently at Seungkwan’s neck and shoulder in the scoop-necked t-shirt. “The sun should be down enough now so that you can see it.”

Seungkwan blinked and stared into the distant, struggling to make out what Hansol’s wolf-sharp eyes meant. It was only after a minute that he spotted it, like an image resolving out of those crazy 3D puzzles. A small rounded building, looking almost like a gazebo but larger, nestled back into the woods. “Yes,” he breathed. “What is that?”

Hansol kissed his neck again, hands sloping down his arms to his hips, where they pressed in. “Go and see,” he said, voice low with a bit of heat to it. “Run and look, but run as fast as you can; the moment you set foot in the forest I’m going to start chasing you. If you make it there first, I’ll owe you a favour, but if I catch you before you do, you’re mine for the night.”

Seungkwan swallowed, gut heating with helpless arousal. He was faster with the blood in his system, and the forest was quite a distance away. “But you have to start from here too,” he bargained, excitement flushing through him.

“Done,” Hansol said, and gave one last nip to his neck before he patted his backside again. “Run, Snow White.”

Seungkwan didn’t think twice about the order, just started running as fast as he could. Energy surged through his limbs, arousal made worse by the adrenaline pumping through him; it was only the blood in him that steadied his feet and gave him a little stamina. He was down the hill in a trice, speeding up over the flat piece before the woods, and burst in amongst the trees at full speed. His breath chased through his chest, his ears rang, and he practically glared at the small building as he ran, trying his best to get there first.

It wasn’t an observatory as he first thought, but something more like a folly in a small clearing. There were small stained-glass windows that glowed with what looked like candles from inside, and the door stood open just a tad…

He heard a cracking of twigs behind him, screamed and ran faster, one hand outstretched as if he could go faster that way, teeth in his lower lip as he strained.

It was all for naught. Hansol slammed into him just on the edge of the little clearing, perhaps five paces away from the doorway. His arms prevented Seungkwan from damage, carefully cupping his head and neck, but it was still a sizeable impact and Seungkwan shouted as he thudded onto the loam with Hansol’s large body on top of his. For a second he couldn’t breathe, body jittering and kicking as Hansol pressed him down further, but he stilled abruptly as Hansol nudged into his ass, pulling his head to the side to claim his throat as his victory.

His shout of indignation dissolved into messy, sighing gurgles of pleasure as sharp fangs slipped into him; he felt the pull all the way to his groin as his hands lashed out to grab at the loam; Hansol’s hips rutted against his ass as his boyfriend drank from his throat, working him up even more.

“I win,” Hansol murmured as he stopped drinking, healing the wound with little fervid kisses and licks.

“Y…yes,” Seungkwan stuttered out, body tingling with bliss. “You win. I’m yours for the night.”

Hansol muffled a satisfied growl into his neck and picked them both up; he didn’t allow Seungkwan distance but pulled him flush to his front as he walked both of them to the doorway and into the small folly.

Seungkwan gasped and stilled as he saw the inside. It was very small but very cozy, just a small room with bookshelves and a reading chair; there was a bed against the back wall of it and a door that looked as if it led to a tiny bathroom, the tiniest he had ever seen, with just enough space for what looked like a toilet and a tiny sink. The vast majority of the small space was the plush carpet covered with lounging pillows in front of a small fireplace, with what looked like a brass tub doing double-duty as a sideboard.

It also had small lamps and fairly lights glowing to light it up; if he had had to think up a fantasy space for him to have a little retreat in, it would look exactly like this. “Hansolie…” he got out.

“Do you like it?” Hansol asked hesitantly, choosing to drape arms over his shoulders. “It was normally just an old deer stalking hut, but I had it renovated for you. I remember how much you loved the old cabin at Gunsloe. It’s not the same, but…”

Seungkwan turned in his arms to kiss him gently. “I love it,” he said. “I _love_ it.”

Hansol’s eyes laughed down at him. “Good, because I thought we could have our first time here at Blendon in it, like we did back there. It took me a few days to pull together; I thought it’d be romantic? Are you still angry at me?”

“Oh gosh,” Seungkwan laughed, and pulled him inside towards the fire via his sweatshirt. “No, this is the best thing. I have a surprise for you too, but it’s smaller.” He grinned as he stepped away, hands tangling his fingers together. “But you’ll have to unwrap it first.”

Hansol’s grin came, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, pushing Seungkwan to the middle of the pillow-strewn space he reached to strip the scoop-necked t-shirt from him first, fingers gentle over his collarbones and down over sensitive nipples.

A simple caress against them had Seungkwan’s tummy tightening and his legs shivering a little. He bit gently into the tip of his tongue as Hansol slowly dragged the leggings down from his waist; watching him carefully he also saw when he felt what hid underneath, and he grinned. “I know you’re a visual guy, so… let’s try this?” he murmured, and stepped away to turn and kneel into the pillows. Arching his back to present his ass up high, he reached behind him to very slowly peel the leggings off over his hips.

Hansol swallowed and stared, hands shaking. His boyfriend had a lacy, frothy piece of lingerie on underneath; the black rendered it far less innocent than it might appear otherwise, and a single dark red satin bow rested just where the fold between his buttocks began, leading the eye there. It looked _spectacular_ on him, cupping and cradling the golden flesh teasingly; he swallowed when Seungkwan shimmied his butt slightly at him, and knew he had a poleaxed expression on his face.

“Holy shit,” he grunted out as he fell to his knees behind him, helping to peel the leggings lower and lower. “Holy shit, this is the best day of my _life_.” Rather than grab as he wanted, he delicately petted at the lace instead, feeling how soft it was, and following the naughty trim around the cut-out parts. “Where have these been all my life?”

“In my luggage since earlier this week,” Seungkwan responded with a teasing grin as he leant forward and nestled into them, supported by his elbows so that he could teasingly wiggle his hips again. “Good thing I thought you deserved a treat today…hey!”

Hansol plucked at one of the elastic strips over one full cheek, letting it snap the golden flesh with a grin. “I didn’t think your ass could look even better, but holy shit Kwan, this is like the best wrapping paper _ever_.” He tapped at the bow, then leant to press a little forward, enough that he could lick teasingly at the lace covering his tiny hole, wetting it and the rim beneath before exhaling on it in a soft, steady stream.

Seungkwan’s body jerked as Hansol subjected him first to delicate little laps of his tongue, then chilly cold; the pleasure made his back sway even more, and he greedily pushed back for more.

“It’s a pity I can’t fuck you with these on,” Hansol mumbled into one full cheek. “And I don’t want to damage them.”

“I… I can get the crotchless kind next time,” Seungkwan found himself volunteering, moaning as one large fingertip gently teased at his rim with the lacy material. He didn’t need to look down to know that his cock was hard and pressing against the fragile material, already starting to make a wet patch.

“Hm,” Hansol muttered agreement, keeping up the steady, chafing caress against his boyfriend’s rim. It worked; Seungkwan was shivering as if he was cold as he buried his face into the pillows, pleading softly with each lush sway of his hips. When he reached to peel them down just a little, barely enough to reveal the soft, pink-flushed entrance, he blew on it again and leant down to gently lap at him there.

Seungkwan’s moan sounded muffled but obscene to his ears as he tried to hold still. Hansol treated eating him out less as prep and more as a goal in its own, often continuing even as he begged for more. Even now, when he wanted nothing more than a good, settling fuck, he tortured him for long minutes on end, until Seungkwan’s rim felt as puffy as his lips and fluttering. One tiny spank made him jerk to hold still for the long, cold exhale of breath, then the fire-brand heat of his tongue, then another exhaled breath before his boyfriend pulled away.

“Hold still,” Hansol ordered as Seungkwan’s thighs shivered and shook. He could smell his arousal, knew how much he was turned on, but he had ideas for tonight, and they required a tad more prep. Ruffling through a basket he hauled out a few things before he returned, giving Seungkwan’s lush ass another spank. “Higher.”

Seungkwan squeaked and lifted his ass that had begun to droop as his knees buckled from pleasure.

“Are you going to be good for me tonight, baby?” Hansol questioned, fingertips worshipping the curves of lace and ribbon. “Or do you just want me to cuff you right now so you can’t be naughty?” He bit his lip, just a tad worried; they had never experimented with bondage before, not even a pair of kinky cuffs, but he was reassured at the groan his boyfriend gave, as well as the way he submissively slid his arms around and crossed his wrists in the small of his back.

He cuffed him very gently, making sure the padded cuffs were gentle on his wrists, before he kissed his fingertips to convey wordless thanks. That one highly embarrassing conversation with Soonyoung- _hyung_ had paid off. He had never wanted to _know_ Jihoonie- _hyung_ enjoyed spreader bars and being cuffed to their headboard, but if that was the price for this he didn’t mind so much.

He reached to grab the lubricant they preferred and popped it open, leaning to lave Seungkwan’s hole with a little more love from his tongue-top before he checked the nozzle, gently slipped it as deep inside as he could, and squirted out a generous helping. It earned him a squeal and a shake of hips; he gentled him with soft circles rubbed against his tailbone and put the lube away, reaching for the beads. They had become Seungkwan’s favourite toy; he loved watching his boyfriend’s ass slowly swallow them.

Seungkwan squealed again as he felt the first of the beads press into him, mind dizzy with pleasure. Beads meant a playful Hansol, and a playful Hansol meant he might not be able to walk tomorrow. Desperate to hold still, he felt long fingers skilfully fuck him with them, making him stretch and clench, stretch and clench, until his passage felt filled between them and the lube and they churned gently against his prostate with each squeeze. Breathless, panting, he relaxed as much as he could with the last one, and waited.

Hansol didn’t disappoint. Instead, he pressed it a little inside before he sat back, tapping very gently at it.

Concentrating, Seungkwan tried to pull it inside, tried to work against the lube-slick curve of it. IT took him a couple of tries to even make it half-way; he had to clench very hard to keep it still and sinking into him, and he whined thin and high at the stretch of it. It was only when it finally sunk into him that he panted and whined again, and canted his hips to be admired.

“Good boy,” Hansol praised softly, drumming fingertips against his rim to give him permission to tighten up. He did, though all he wanted to do was relax again.

Hansol moved Seungkwan gently, rubbed appreciatively at his back and taut shoulders, before he pulled the panties up over Seungkwan’s hips instead and slipped to rest beneath him. Pulling his boyfriend down, he nudged his hips between his thighs to spread him, then started to kiss him gently.

They spent long minutes in the firelight like that, kissing with long, slick slides of their tongues as he caressed up and down his backside, until he could stand the temptation no longer and slipped his hands in beneath the panties to cup Seungkwan’s butt and start playing with him. His strong palms squeezed and massaged the smooth curves, whilst fingertips slipped inside the crack to finger him, stretch and pet and play with the delicate rim. He ate up the soft moans and grunts, ignored the squeals as he fingered the beads in deeper and deeper, until high tight whines told him they were pressed perfectly into his depths.

“I love you,” he whispered into Seungkwan’s one pink ear, biting delicately at the shell of it to gauge his sensitivity. When his boyfriend jerked even through the slow gyrations into his hands, he grinned. “And I’m not sorry we’ve not had sex for a few days. Do you know why?”

Seungkwan tried to focus; his body was so wrecked with pleasure it was amazing he hadn’t spilled already. “Why?” he managed to get out. “I was wondering.”

Gauging the shudder in his shoulders, Hansol reached down to take the cuffs off and ease the unaccustomed strain out of his arms. “I want to knot you,” he explained into one blushing ear. “And I want to fill you up, baby. I wanted to be ready for that. I can do that, right?”

Whimpering at the soft, filthy words, Seungkwan begged for more with pouty little kisses to Hansol’s sharp jaw.

He felt Hansol scoot the panties down, helping him to kick them off before the ordeal of removing the beads came. He loved them inside him, didn’t want to release them until Hansol encouraged him with a series of sharp spanks that made his ass jiggle and his spine turn to heat. They popped out noisily, squelching from the lube, and he gasped as he realised how empty he was. Seconds later another gasp came as Hansol lifted him and scooted his own tracksuit down just a little, enough for his huge cock to slap against his belly.

Hansol stared up at his shivering, panting boyfriend. “Put it in, baby,” he ordered, and watched as Seungkwan nodded and got up on shivering thighs to straddle him. His hands looked small against the thick length, and he moaned as he pressed the large head to his rim, sinking down slowly.

It felt like being impaled, like being stretched to his limits; Seungkwan was too lost in pleasure to go fast; instead he savoured each inch slipping into his ass, working it into him like he did the beads. Very slowly he slid down, stomach and thighs taut with the effort, until he finally sank that last little bit down and opened his eyes to stare at Hansol, lips pouting. “You’re too large,” he whined, wiggling to settle. “It’s too much, Hansolie, you’re going to break me this time. You’re so deep inside you have to go slow, ok?” He reached to pat the bump where the cock-head distended his belly a little, reaching above his navel. “Be gentle, please?”

Hansol petted his thighs gently, knowing that the needy, pouting Kwan on his lap enjoyed that moment of feeling soft and delicate and fragile, but that he would also be begging for more in just a few moments. “Gentle,” he promised him. “Just sit there, I’ll do all the work.”

Seungkwan moaned very softly at the first tug of the cock out of him, leaning back on Hansol’s thighs with one hand as the other ceaselessly rubbed at his flat, sleek stomach. Another moan slipped out as Hansol just as delicately fucked back into him, and he gave soft mm as he worked his ass around the hard shaft, feeling stretched open wide and _delicious._ Over and over, until he felt delicate and adored and loved with each gentle surge.

It continued on too long, and he moaned at the need to be worked open; it wasn’t quite enough to come and his cock was so hard his belly was wet from precum leaking onto it. Whining, he reached to paw against Hansol’s chest. “More,” he begged. “More, Hansolie!”

Curving Seungkwan’s body to him, Hansol rolled them around and splayed his boyfriend’s sleek thighs wide with his hips, moving a little faster. It fascinated him, watching Seungkwan fall apart with each nudge against his prostate; his boyfriend was just a little shrill at the increased depth, and he moved faster, starting to fuck him in earnest.

Seungkwan shouted as Hansol’s cock speared up inside him, arms flailing to find purchase before he wrapped tired thighs and arms around his strong body. With the blood inside him it felt so good, so _hot_ that the flame in the pit of his belly raged, insides coiling and weak from the constant buffeting thrusts from the huge cock. It was so deep inside him, so hard and immediate, that he felt utterly conquered by the predator that lived deep inside Hansol’s skin. He wasn’t sure what he was saying, words of praise dripped heedlessly from his panting mouth.

He tried to sneak hands down to touch himself to ease the crazy tension, but Hansol growled at him; the growl made his arms rush back to their position around his back and he shouted at the quick patter of shallow grinding thrusts. It felt like a lightning-bolt striking down his spine as Hansol stopped teasing and began to really fuck him with all the power in his powerful hips. He lasted barely three more thrusts before his world shattered and he clung to him, whimpering breathlessly as the savage climax whipped through him. Through it all he didn’t let go, set his heels into Hansol’s butt to guide him even deeper, and finally got what he had been waiting for.

Hansol, panting and on the edge, watched Seungkwan’s head tumble back into the pillows, ass clenching down on him, and felt the tightness start at the base of his cock. He had no mercy fucking the knot into Seungkwan, forcing his poor rim to stretch even further, felt it lock high and tight inside him as his boyfriend keened and came, spurting between them. Holding him tightly by the hips, grinding the knot into him, he came as well, starting to fill him with heated jets of white.

It was like magic. He watched the tension disappear from Seungkwan’s frame, saw his pursed mouth open into a soundless ‘ahhh’ of satisfaction, and smiled as tear-wet eyelashes fluttered open. He smiled down at him, love filling his heart, and got a smile in return. Very carefully, still coming in slow, measured spurts, he rolled them to their side for comfort, and kissed him very gently. “Better?” he asked softly into the heated space between them.

Seungkwan felt settled, warm, utterly loved. “Mhm,” he mumbled softly and shyly as he concentrated on the soft heat sinking into his bowels from Hansol’s seed. It felt good, the occasional tightness of his rim on the knot, the slowly growing fullness inside him. “More later?” he asked prettily, long since past the point of embarrassment when they were close like this.

Hansol brushed another kiss on him and pulled him closer. “I promise, baby. Take a nap, ok? We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * This is the last of the slice-of-life chapters. Things kick off with a bang next chapter. 
>   * I hope this satisfied some urges for domestic Verkwan and Junhao! 
>   * Perhaps Mary Poppins happened? 
>   * Happy birthday to our two 0218 babies! 
> 



	4. Historia Est Vitae Magistra

The boulevard along the Seine lay pale and perfect in the moonlight. Despite the late hour the shops were still open, spilling the smell of food, the chatter of night owls and the ineffable allure of _Paris_ in the streets. Jihoon, carefully trundling the twin stroller with Jimin and Iseul along, felt something ineffable relax at the back of his neck, and breathed out into the summer air. He had dreamt of seeing Paris once upon a time, back in the tiny university dorm in Busan; he never thought he’d experience it so early in his life, especially not married and with twins he had carried himself.

Soonyoung was here too, peeking down into the river to see if he could see fish in the polluted water, and pouting when he didn’t. He attracted attention simply for being himself: dressed impeccably in clothes even the notoriously fussy Parisians wouldn’t object to, and there was an air of danger in his easy lope, one that only disappeared when he came to crouch next to the stroller to amuse the twins with little hand-puppets and baby talk.

“That guy is so lucky,” he heard a woman sigh from a café table. “Look at that husband. Rich and handsome, _and_ he likes children. Why can’t I get one like that?”

Jihoon stifled his laugh. _Soonyoungie is one of a kind,_ he thought with a certain kind of satisfaction. _Good luck, lady._

His mind fluttered to the songs that he had to present to the recording company the next morning. The entertainment company’s largest band was in town having a concert and the big boss had come along; he was the only producer that produced in native Korean, and they were jonesing to sell the company as many of his songs as they could.

_Don’t Wanna Cry? Aju Nice? I wonder what kind of a vibe they would go for. Or do they perhaps want something harder-hitting, sexy is in right now…_

As he peeked into the stroller he heaved a tiny sigh of relief. Jimin had fallen asleep at long last; he had been fussy earlier that night, plagued by the last baby teeth coming out. It was only Iseul that watched through her father’s slitted eyes as they passed by a small stall that sold bright balloon animals. Jihoon paused there to buy two and tied them to the stroller; a dog in yellow for Jimin, and a flower in pale blue for his quiet daughter.

“I think it’s working, we should start heading to the hotel,” he said quietly to Soonyoung as they started off again. Across the river the fire-blackened Notre Dame looked like a slumped, broken tooth; he still remembered how the news of the fire there had made Seungkwanie cry for days on end. His soft, sensitive adopted younger brother had tried to communicate the sheer historical loss through his sadness, but it hadn’t worked. Instead he had just watched clips of the fire for hours, tears trickling down his cheeks.

Their path took them into the dark black shadow; Jihoon peered and crossed the road, intent on trundling down towards the hotel on the road parallel to this one. It was smaller and narrower, but there were still people there, and he could hear old-fashioned Jazz playing from a café further down it.

“Look,” Soonyoung murmured, pointing to a brightly-lit old book store down the road, one that sported a framed old map in its window. “Wonwoo-yah would appreciate that, right? I’m just going to nip along and ask them if it’s for sale.” He leant to kiss Jihoon’s cheek. “Be right back, walk safe!”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “It’s maybe fifteen steps further on?” he reasoned. “Go on.”

Soonyoung laughed and slipped away into the crowd, broad back making his way quickly to the shop. Jihoon, hearing a wheel wobble on the cobblestones, sighed and slipped to the side of the road, stopping just before the entryway of a narrow, connective alleyway to free Jimin’s blanket from the wheel for the third time that night. He had just hunkered down to tuck it in when the night seemed to go darker; when he looked up there was a very tall man with a buzzcut standing there, the big brawny type that looked like a private security guard.

He blinked, tried to move on around him with an apology, and came up short as another one of them appeared. Heart thudding – they were rich, it could be a kidnapping – he backed up a little bit, peeking over his shoulder to see if he could get out the other way.

No luck. A third man filled that exit, shoulders barely fitting through.

“What do you want?” he said in quick, nervous French. “Please let me through, I need to get back to my husband.”

“Accursed whore of the devil,” the one closest to him hissed, face suddenly a rictus of anger.

The words tripped Jihoon up, made him boggle. Were the men not after money after all? He watched, spellbound, as the man reached into his jacket and pulled out not a pistol, but a hand crossbow of some sort, intricately chased with silver and pointed not at him, but his twins.

Protectiveness boiled up in him alongside fear, and he screamed as he dove for the stroller to protect his babies. Soonyoung’s name rippled out of him, high and frightened and loud; sounds echoed slowly and weirdly, and his world devolved into a series of flashes. The Parisian nightlife seemed oddly far away like a carnival in a fever dream where evil clowns danced, and pain licked up his side as the crossbow bolt meant for Jimin thudded into his back at an odd angle. The pain made him scream, but he stayed there, hunching protectively over his children.

The world went to shit in the next second. Someone leapt into the alley from above, tearing one of the men away and slapping him so hard into the wall that he created a crater in it, blood and guts bursting out from the tremendous force. Another thud, thus time with a gurgle as the second man’s throat got ripped out, and finally the thick, meaty sound of the third dying again, head ripped off his spine.

Jihoon’s eyelids fluttered as Iseul started to wail slowly beneath him; he was in so much pain he couldn’t quite breathe.

Very distantly, seeing through a long black tunnel, he saw Soonyoung run towards him with blood on his hands. His husband was saying something, but he couldn’t quite hear it; seconds later, he passed out from the pain and knew no more.

* * *

“How is he?” an urgent voice asked as he started to come to. He was still in pain, but rested belly-down on a bed from what he could tell. The voice was familiar… Jun? His mind struggled to understand why Jun was in Paris with them when he could remember them staying behind in Gunsloe.

“He’s lost a lot of blood.” _That_ was Sophie, it sounded like. “The bolt’s still in his kidney. I’ve tried to stabilise him, but it’s like it doesn’t work. I’ve never seen something like this, it’s like it’s pulling deeper and deeper into his body. Soonyoung’s blood isn’t working to reject it.”

_Ah_. That would explain the dusty-sweet taste in Jihoon’s mouth. He stirred, tried to mumble, and was pressed immediately down into the bed again, large hands careful around him.

“Lie still baby,” Soonyoung urged somewhere above him. Their bond was alive with grief and worry; he caught glimpses of his figure on their hotel bed, towel beneath his waist soaked red with blood. “Lie still, ok? You can’t move right now.”

He swallowed and struggled up, pain sharding in his back. “Babies…” he managed to mutter out. “Minnie, Seul-ah…”

The hands pressed him back down again. Someone was cursing very badly; he had never heard such language before, but it ripped and sizzled against the air.

“They’re safe. Hold still.”

Another voice; he struggled to identify it as Minghao, but it reverberated oddly in his head.

“Will you…?” Soonyoung asked, voice thick with tears and desperate. “ _Hyung_? Will it work?”

“Yes. On three, Sophie. Cut down and rip it out head and all. Very fast, as fast as you can.”

The soft order presaged hands lifting him against the pain, holding him at an angle. His scream got stifled when blood bubbled against his lips; compared to the precisely measured sips Soonyoung normally gives him, this spurted into his mouth like a fountain, thick and heavy and sweet as treacle. He gargled and nearly choked, trying to swallow it all, but it seemed to have other ideas. It rushed down his mouth, ran down his throat and hit his system like a brick.

Jihoon felt his system reboot from the gut-punch of that blood. Stars bloomed into being behind his eyes, terrible things lurking in the dark before a supernova of light swallowed him. He barely felt the slice into his back and the savage way the bolt got ripped out. The power in him didn’t care. Instead it roared through him, rushed to the wound somehow; one shredded kidney healed itself in a second. His spine bowed under that tremendous pressure and he tried to scream anew, only to have a hand choke him to silence.

A strong body curled around him as he bucked and writhed, trying to ride the power of the blood. There were auras around things when his eyes slammed open; he could see dust sifting from a microscopic crack near the ceiling moulding, and it sounded like Paris was in his head with millions of roaring voices.

“Jesus, _hyung_!” Soonyoung shouted, sounding frantic; Jihoon saw his aura in flame reds and oranges around him, an aurora against his senses. “Sophie, help!”

He fought to get free, almost managed it, before another body piled on his and the two of them rode him down to the bed together.

Her aura burned his eyes, this time green-gold with the colour he’d expect from a healer; she was weaker than Soonyoung, much so, and a single twist of his hand he pushed her off to thud off the bed. More stars, the prettiest blue he had ever seen, serene and sprightly, until a hand haloed in gold came to press him down.

He gasped and fought, but seconds later the fight abruptly went out of him as the blue person placed two bundles against his chest, one shining white with subtle opalescent swirls like the inside of some shells, and the other a bright fierceness already, strands of crimson shooting through the silvery glow of his existence. Jihoon reached for them, frantic; his babies were crying and he couldn’t deal with that, he couldn’t have them sad…

People slowly resolved out of the auras as long as he didn’t blink; Soonyoung first, who was crying and scratched up from the way he had fought, then Sophie, who crawled back to examine him with quick, fascinated touches. “How did that work?” she demanded. “How did you know the twins would calm him down?”

The golden hand stroked slowly at his forehead, touch fond and loving. “Instinct,” Minghao said from a great distance away. “Even with the quickening inside him, he’d never hurt his children.”

Jihoon blinked, trying desperately to get his eyes clear. “Youngie?” he got out, mouth still filled with that immense taste. “Youngie, it hurts, please make the sounds stop!”

The tiger-bright man reached to wrap him in his arms, and Soonyoung’s smell wrapped around him in a blanket. “Shh,” he murmured, softly pressing hands over Jihoon’s ears. “Shhh, just listen to my voice, okay?”

It helped. Sense slowly came back to Jihoon and his mind cleared. When he opened his eyes again things were still bright as daylight, but he could see everyone as a person, not as an amorphous blob of varicoloured light. He peeked down, saw his babies in his arms, then looked up at Soonyoung. From there his gaze slipped to Sophie, who was peeking under his body with fascination. Further on, to Jun braced against the table and Minghao sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at him with worried eyes.

“I dull it down,” Minghao said softly. “It pass now, you won’t see that anymore, nor have dreams.”

Jihoon swallowed. “How are you here?” he asked, dragging his feet up into a ball so that he could scoot closer to Soonyoung, desperate for the solace of his husband’s touch. “All I know is that these men were looming, and one had a crossbow… was that you in the alley, Youngie?”

Soonyoung sighed and nodded. “I heard you scream. Sebastian’s still there, cleaning up. God, I feel terrible, but you were screaming and injured, and I acted on instinct. I can’t believe a gang would try to kidnap you three right in Paris. I’ll speak to the security company, arrange for close protection…”

“Not necessary,” Jun’s voice came from the corner of the room, light and lilting. He was hunkered down at the end of the bed, staring at the blood-covered bolt that still lay where Sophie had tossed it. Carefully, very carefully he reached to pick it up with long jade finger-protectors, grinning with fascination as the two of them started humming against each other.

“ _Hyung_?” Soonyoung said, frowning. “How can you say that?”

Jun straightened and reached for a small bowl, dropping the bolt in and digging in Sophie’s medical bag to grab a bottle of ethanol. “OH… no, I don’t mean don’t hire protection.” The liquid swished into the bowl, and he reached in again, this time with a pocket handkerchief, and ahhed soundlessly as he plucked the bolt out like that. “It’s just that a normal security company won’t work.” He held up the bolt, glaring minutely at it. “Spell-enforced silver and olivewood. I can smell the magic sifting from it.” Grimacing, he tossed it back into the bowl and handed that to Minghao.

“Impossible,” the ancient said very softly as he peered down at it. “Jerusalem olive? I thought they had all been killed.”

Soonyoung blinked, sheltering Jihoon deeper into his arms. “Who?” he asked plaintively.

“The Templars.”

* * *

The whole group returned to Gunsloe immediately; Jihoon cited a family emergency to the recording company and gave them full control over the sales; somehow royalties didn’t matter with some crazed killers after them. It was the fastest he had ever seen the vampiric phone-tree working; they had barely arrived before Hansol dragged Seungkwan there, face white with fear. The rest arrived within a few hours: Seokmin and Jisoo from the USA, Seungcheol’s whole family from Venice with Mingyu and Wonwoo. Chan took the longest, having to fly from the holiday he had been spending in Korea to see his parents’ home country.

Jihoon was still shivering from Minghao’s revelation that he could teleport people again; it was how he and the others had gotten to Paris quickly enough to save him, but it had cost the ancient a great deal of power that he couldn’t spare again. Soonyoung sat next to him, one arm wrapped around his smaller frame, with the babies right in front of them in their bassinet, mirrored by Jeonghan’s on the other side of the seats.

Rather contrary to his thoughts, it was Jisoo that drew breath to speak first. “I think we’d all be calmer with an explanation,” he stated in his gentle voice. “I’m really confused. This sounds like some kind of Dan Brown novel.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan echoed unhappily. “I thought there were no crazy vampire-killers or weird sects – that’s what Hansolie said? I mean, I’ve heard of the Templars, but not in this way.”

“In my defence,” Hansol muttered, “I thought so too. I’ve never heard of them before.”

Soonyoung drew a deep breath. “It’s not something that we ever told the younger generation. There have always been enemies, and hunting societies on and off through history, but really, there has only ever been one real threat to exterminate us. Generally, as a species we’re good at policing ourselves so most of what there is today is myth and fiction, as you’ve seen.” He took a breath. “There are, however, reasons why we decided long ago not to get involved with normal mortal governance or the affairs of kingdoms.”

“Not,” Seungcheol continued, “that we don’t act when we have to, or that we don’t have noble titles. For instance, I’m still the Duke of Devonshire, but I don’t take the seat in the House of Lords, and Chatsworth isn’t a private house anymore, I have it open to the public with someone playing the Duke for me. The current royal family has known about us since Henry VIII ennobled us, we have a good agreement that we’ll help out if it’s ever desperately needed, but that we like to remain private individuals.”

Seokmin sighed. “People fear us, and rightly so: we’re stronger, faster, practically immortal and some of us _can_ exert the glamours and influences so popular in horror television.”

Soonyoung nodded. “Precisely, and that’s where the trouble started, with a weak man on the throne and a vampire that wanted to be King himself. Phillip III of France was an indecisive, weak king, though he’s sometimes called Phillip the Bold for his valour in combat. He was on the field so much, fighting in the various Crusades and the like, that he left his lands in the governance of others. His son had virtually no education from his father, and when he took over after Philip’s death by dysentery things took a turn for the worse.”

Jihoon frowned as he tried to keep track of all the information, and gave up after a while, letting the tale flow over him. “Was he a bad king too?” he asked softly, fingers curling into Soonyoung’s.

The three vampires looked at each other and fell silent expectantly; it was only when Hansol nudged Seungkwan that he startled awake from his intense concentration.

“Quite bad,” he affirmed. “He tried to mess in the affairs of other lands to put his kinsmen on thrones, he started wars with the Flemish, with England, and with Aragon, which led to massive fiscal deficits. He kicked the Jews out of Paris, and he was constantly, _constantly_ borrowing money which… oh.” He fell silent for a moment. “Okay, yes. The Knights Templar, of course. They controlled a lot of assets, and Jewish silver mints helped him after he ordered them kicked out. And then he started to move against the clerics in his kingdom, taxing them, and that’s where trouble with the Church started too.”

“Precisely,” Seungcheol said. “And all of it on the advice of his advisors, of which the worst was Enguerrand de Marigny. De Marigny was ostensibly born around 1260, which was the first farce perpetrated. In actual fact he was a vampire that took over the man’s identity and started to ingratiate himself into the affairs of royalty. He became Grand Chamberlain to the King eventually, and was responsible for a great number of laws and ideas on how to improve the power of the King.”

Chan leant forward. “No one noticed?” he asked curiously. “Didn’t they notice his vampire habits or something?

Jeonghan cleared his throat. “In those days, if you had a lot of power and the King’s ear, people chose not to see certain things. There weren’t kept records like these days. Writing and education was for nobles and priests, and mostly just men.”

Soonyoung nodded thoughtfully. “Precisely. We were in England at the time so we did not see it first-hand, but that’s where all the trouble started, with the Templars and the Jews. The king took advantage of a weak Papacy to not only try and tax clerics but replace them with his own people, and being that time in substantial debt to the Knights Templar, he accused them of heresy and witchcraft as a final blow on the advice of his ministers, especially Guillaume de Nogaret, who was under de Marigny’s control by then.”

“They mocked up reasons to arrest them across the kingdoms and tortured them into confession. Jacques de Molay, the last Grandmaster, was burned at the stake for his perceived sins,” Seungcheol continued. “

“I checked the spot of the attack,” Sebastian said, silent until now. “It matched the spot where he was burned alive that you gave me.”

Jihoon’s indrawn breath hurt in his tight chest, lips trembling at the reminder of that fear.

“The Templars’ assets were laid claim to, they were driven out or absorbed into other orders, and they grew bitter,” Soonyoung said. “They turned to other parties also suffering, like the Jewish, and together revolutionaries of the two groups tried to prove the order’s innocence and gain their revenge. They found out that de Marigny was not human, and they conspired to have him executed on charges of witchcraft too.”

“Even in China we heard,” Jun murmured. “Mainly through traders on the silk road. Europe was a _mess_.”

Minghao sighed and nodded. “We deal with our own problems then, but gossip is powerful, and rumour spread of vampiric existence via those traders.”

Seungcheol snorted. “If it had stopped at that, it might still have been possible to ignore, but they went mad with the desire for revenge. Secretly taking the vast wealth they had hidden and the majority of the Gnostic masters they could convince, they faked the Templars’ downfall and started their own Crusade, this time against the unholy devils – us. Hundreds of vampires died in Europe alone.” He scrubbed at his face. “We had to step in or risk the race being revealed. From the thirteenth century to the seventeenth, the vampires of Europe, the Middle East and even some from further countries, ranged over Europe and systematically exterminated them. Four centuries of wading in blood, trying to uproot an organization that refused to die, all to regain our safety.”

“We tried to stay in the shadows as much as we could, but it kicked off a period of turmoil that would see Europe in the Middle Ages before we managed to kill off the last part of the order… or so we thought. From England to Georgia and Iran.” Soonyoung pinched his eyes shut. “There were very few lights in that darkness.”

“It kicked off so much war it even spread to China,” Jun confirmed. “It was one of the reasons for the downfall of the Ming dynasty; it led to us fleeing into the desert for safety. Dark years, very dark years.”

Seungcheol managed a small grin. “At least I had Jeonghan at my side by then, I don’t know how the rest of you got through that.”

“I still remember those times,” Jeonghan offered. “The Black Plague, Bosworth, Mary... it was a lot.”

Seungcheol nodded. “Thinking we had managed to get rid of the Templars, Soonyoung-ah, Jeonghan-ah and I came back here, informed the court at the time that we would be withdrawing from said court, and settled on our old estates. Things slowly grew… well, not calmer, but we were afforded a measure of rest at least. After four centuries of blood on our hands, we were _tired_ of it. We wanted to stop. It didn’t quite stick the first time around, but by Elizabeth’s death we managed it.”

Silence fell in the room; most of the vampires looked tired and distraught, and most of the humans were dumbstruck.

Hansol reached up to wipe at his face, trying to massage the frown off his face. “Jesus, what a story. And now it looks as if they’re not dead? But if they shot you with a crossbow bolt, Jihoon- _hyung_ , I still don’t understand why Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s blood couldn’t just cure that? You’ve had so much blood by now that even a bullet shouldn’t have been that bad?”

Jeonghan gently patted Seungcheol’s hand. “That wasn’t the only outcome of the Middle Ages,” he explained to the younger ones. “It kicked off so much uncertainty and transferral of power from the Papacy to the temporal rulers that with the lies that the Templars spread there was virulent hatred against anything or anyone that could influence destiny in ways others could not.”

“Oh my gosh,” Seungkwan said after a moment’s silence. “Oh my _gosh_ , the Inquisitions. Of course.”

Jisoo tilted his head. “The Spanish Inquisition? You mean the witchcraft trials?” he asked curiously.

Seungkwan shook his head. “It’s a common misconception that they only concentrated on witchcraft as a religious force. They were more like a police force for the rulers, and there was more than one. They tried religious sects, the Jews again, Muslims, the Ottomans… they had trials for blasphemy, against the Freemasons, non-traditional forms of marriage, some sodomites and yes, a lot of persecution of magical societies, including the witch-burnings most people know of.”

Jeonghan nodded. “So much knowledge was lost that in effect, magic died out. Some practices still existed in the Far East that I know of, but by then what had not died before the spread of Christianity died then.”

Chan blinked. “And all of this happened because one vampire wanted to be like a king?” he asked unhappily. “Just one man?”

“Just one,” Seokmin said quietly. “At the wrong time and with the wrong motives. The world lost so much in the Dark Ages that we lost practically all forward progress. It was only with the Renaissance that things started to look up again. If not for them, we would probably be living on Mars by now, or on other planets entirely. We might have been able to cure cancer, or AIDS, or solve world hunger.”

“But,” Hansol said softly. “That’s why all of you are so afraid, right?” he asked. “Because if these people survived and they made that dart, they might have access to real magic still, and that means that we’re vulnerable again.”

Soonyoung gave one sharp nod. “Precisely.”

Silence fell until Minghao, with a nudge from Jun cleared his throat. “It has happened before,” he said with reluctance. “Before, long before.”

Jihoon blinked, pulled from the shocked quiet he had been sitting in. “What?” he asked numbly.

Seungcheol frowned. “ _Hyung_ , what?” he muttered. “No, we’ve always before been careful not to get too involved…”

Minghao’s shake of his head silenced them. “You know of story of Great Flood. Noah, yes?” He grimaced. “In China we have this story too, how there was great flood that nearly wiped out world. Only in China, person that righted world is called Nuwa, not Noah. Snake-goddess, not man. But important part is there was flood, and world nearly got wiped out, thanks to vampires in power. Same as story of Babel, but from other storyteller.”

Silence fell again as he looked at them impotently, gentle ancient face trying to communicate something through his words.

In the end, it was the historian of their group that finally understood. Seungkwan looked at him with terrible suspicion; as Minghao nodded he turned white, opened his mouth and fainted dead away.

“Seungkwan!” Hansol yelled, moving to pick him up. “ _Hyung_ , what the hell? Why did he faint?’

“You’re not serious!” Jisoo demanded next, eyes flared wide open; when Minghao nodded and the others turned to look at him, he grimaced. “It’s Atlantis,” he said bitterly. “He’s talking about the fall of _Atlantis_.”

* * *

The revelation of the truth behind the Templars didn’t put Jihoon in a good mood. He didn’t feel lied to, not precisely, but couldn’t shake the anger that there was someone out there that had it in not only for his extended family but his kids. It grew as he heard arrangements being made to sharpen up the security around the integral parts of Gunsloe, and it especially irked him that it had fallen smack-dab in the midst of the first holiday Seungkwan had taken in years.

Even now he remembered how hesitantly Hansol had come to him to ask for permission to begin feeding Seungkwan blood; he had shown him the simple platinum-and-alexandrite engagement ring he had gotten him on the advice of Seungkwan’s mother. He _also_ remembered the conversation he had had with the two mothers in the family afterwards, and their discussion on whether Hansol was good enough for their baby (luckily a resounding yes).

He had wanted to be celebrating a possible wedding, not being shot in the back by some crazed vampire killers.

Making his way into his study, he switched his equipment on, pulled the dust cloth off the synths, keyboard and speakers, and made himself at home in front of the keyboard. He had received news that morning that all his songs had sold, and sold well; producing would take his mind off the situation a little.

Morning shaded to day, then to afternoon before Minghao finally made his way into the room. They were two of the quietest members of the extended family, and the ancient vampire often sat in one nook of his study, curled up on a sofa to catch up on the history of the world from a large tablet. Today, still tired from rushing Sophie and Sebastian to Paris to save him, he merely slumped back into the embrace of the sofa and stared at the opposite wall, something he rarely did.

Jihoon paused to play something softer after a while, switching from beats to a simple lullaby on the keyboard; when he looked again Minghao was asleep and Seungkwan sat on the small ottoman in front of the sofa, covering the ancient with a large knitted blanket.

He looked to see potential differences and did; the faint bruises in the skin underneath Seungkwan’s eyes had faded, and his complexion appeared just a little bit more radiant, his sclera that tiny fraction whiter. Jihoon’s lips tucked into a small smile as he stood to join him, pressing shoulder-to-hip as he looked down at the ancient vampire.

Seungkwan breathed in, and dropped the bombshell.

“I think he’s pregnant again.”

Jihoon nearly swallowed his tongue at that, eyes widening as he stared at Seungkwan. “Again? What makes you say that?”

Seungkwan darted a glance back to him. “A few things,” he said after a while. “The way he drank and ate at Blendon, mostly, and just something in the way he moves? Even at lunch I saw him put down four bags of blood without a problem. He went through them like they were Capri Sun packets. Besides, I might be wrong, but I think he’s taking some supplements too, and not the ones that I need to take to keep me healthy.”

Jihoon returned to thoughtfully staring at Minghao as he sat and wormed in underneath Seungkwan’s arm. “Either that, or he’s trying to get his body in shape for it,” he mumbled. “I wish some of us had his aura sight too. I wonder if magic can be learnt again – it must be possible, if they’re still using it against the vampires now.”

“I don’t know?” Seungkwan sighed, sounding pensive. “ _Hyung_ , about pregnancy…”

Jihoon felt water rill down his back, and something in his stomach cramped. He had totally healed in the last year or so, but the thought of Seungkwan thinking in those terms made his hackles rise still. “Yes?” he asked after a moment. “What about it?”

Seungkwan reached to right a twist of the knitted blanket before he inhaled. “I know it’s different for you since Jiminie and Seul-ah were born before we found out about this, but I don’t think I’d want to have babies whilst they’re still out there? I mean, not that Hansol had even asked yet, but I don’t think I’m ready to think of that. There are so many vulnerable little lives now, I don’t want to add to their number. But what if we aren’t sure they’re rooted out and it’s a decade down the line, or twenty? What if I want to have kids then and there’s still that uncertainty hanging over our heads?”

Jihoon said a wordless prayer of relief first before he reached to squeeze Seungkwan’s fingers gently. “We’ll have to work as quickly as we’re able to,” he said. “I thought of giving the kids to my parents and sending them into seclusion somewhere to keep them safe, but I’m not sure that’s possible and I don’t want to miss their first years anyway. My mind’s still racing on what else we can do.”

“I don’t think the _hyungdeul_ will let us fight anyway,” Seungkwan muttered. “I mean, I’m not totally sure but I think that Soonyoung- _hyung_ will break his fangs off before he let you get in danger after what happened, and I saw how Hansol dragged me back here. Of the humans like us, it’s just Jeonghan- _hyung_ that has any training in weaponry and fighting.”

“As much as I want to disagree,” Jihoon said sourly, “I think you’re right. But that doesn’t mean we need to sit here and be useless. I’m at least going to learn how to use a firearm to protect myself, and you know, what you said about magic was interesting too. Perhaps we could learn?” He glanced at Minghao’s sleeping form. “Not just for us, but others as well. It was a miracle getting this life, and I’m not giving it up now.” His mouth puckered as he thought.

Seungkwan nodded slightly, looking up with wide eyes as the door opened, pushing Jihoon in a little behind him.

Jeonghan and Jisoo peered at them, peered at Minghao and came to crowd close as well.

“The big dick brigade are being all macho and talking about weaponry and strategic routines,” Jisoo muttered acidly, hooking a daintily carved chair closer to straddle it. “So Hannie and I thought we’d come and join you guys and make some real plans.”

Jeonghan settled on the arm of the sofa. “Sophie had to go back to London,” he said quietly. “We sent Sebastian, Wonwoo and Mingyu along with her, just in case. Unfortunately, the others already kidnapped Hansol and Chan so we’ll have to say goodbye to their brains. I figure we’ll probably get more done here, and most of us are humans as well. They’re also watching the babies for the moment.”

The tension in Jihoon’s spine relaxed a little and he breathed out, fingers going to twist his wedding band around his finger. “Seungkwanie and I were thinking about what we could do, yes. We were talking about some firearms training and seeing if magic was still a thing to be learnt?”

Jisoo nodded immediately. “I have training in firearms, it’s not so tightly regulated in the US as it is here; I can look into finding a good range, or a good instructor nearby.”

“And I have some fencing prowess,” Jeonghan added. “And a little unorthodox knife training; Seungkwanie, you had some training from Mingyu- _ya_ as well?”

“And from Jun- _hyung_ ,” their youngest said, straightening as well. “Channie, Hansol- _ah_ and I join in on his morning exercises.”

“Magic isn’t easy,” came from the sofa; when they looked Minghao was looking at them through barely-opened eyes with a small smile on his mouth. “I can try to teach, but I have idea…” At their guilty looks he shrugged one shoulder. “I hear fly walk on ceiling in stables, you not worry. There is one very great sorceress still living that I know of, but she is very old and a little… a little not in love with the idea of men. Perhaps if we track her own and convince her, she might teach us something.”

Jihoon frowned. “I thought all the magic users were mostly dead?” he asked. “And none of us might have the knack of using it in any case?”

Minghao straightened and tucked his legs in underneath himself, pulling the knitted blanket around his shoulders. “Bigger works of magic need knack, yes,” he explained. “Because you need the power inside yourself. But for smaller workings, small rituals, most people can learn them.” He inhaled. “We will have to go to Russia to find her. She will not come to us, and might decide not to see us anyway, but it is said she’s fond of children despite the stories about her.” Narrowing his eyes, he looked at Seungkwan. “You not faint again.”

“ _Hyung_!” Seungkwan complained. “You were talking about Atlantis, how could I not?”

“Hmph.”

“ _Hyung_!”

Minghao sighed as the others laughed at Seungkwan’s pout. “It is Baba Yaga,” he finally said. “The White Which of Siberia. The only vampire that I know that ever managed to learn high magic.”

Seungkwan’s inhale of breath sounded loud; for a second Jihoon thought he was going to faint anyway, and poked him in the side to distract him. “How do we even reach her?” he asked. “And how are we going to get away from the others? I can’t see them letting us leave now. Not to even mention that, but what of the babies? Are we going to take them with into that kind of danger? With Miss Blaire away at that family emergency…”

He broke off as a delicate, familiar knock came at the door; eyes wide, he looked at them wonderingly. “Is that her?” he breathed.

The others look confused as well; Jihoon’s eyes were as big as his and Jisoo’s head tilted quizzically.

Seconds later, the quiet young woman opened the door to pop her head in, hair momentarily wheat-gold in the room’s lights. “Your Grace,” she said to Jihoon, bobbing her head in lieu of a curtsey. “Your Grace. Sirs. I just wanted to tell you that I’m back. I’ve seen the babies to their nursery, and I’ll prepare their afternoon bottle. Is there aught else I can do for you?”

Seungkwan got there before the others. “Are you really Mary Poppins, Miss Blaire?” he asked, eyes still wide. “How’d you _know_?”

Jeonghan burst out laughing hysterically; Miss Blaire smiled at Seungkwan against that backdrop. “Miss Sophie let me know, sorry. Nothing more magical than that.” Her bright blue eyes scanned the room. “I’ll bring some hot drinks afterwards.”

Jihoon shook his head. “No need, we’ll do that ourselves.” He paused. “Thank you,” he said softly. “It means a lot.”

She smiled at them, bobbed another little curtsey and pulled the door shut quietly.

“Alright,” Jisoo drawled. “ _Now_ I believe in magic.”

Jeonghan laughed. “Okay. Let’s start planning.”

* * *

Seungkwan had worried how his _hyungdeul_ would stop their husbands from finding out about their planning. He had forgot to reckon with Hansol and Chan, who pounced on him fifteen minutes after he left the little study; they dragged him gently but firmly out and to the nook behind the stables with an arm each, and pressed him down on the little ratty seat there as they stared down at him. Pouting, he crossed his arms and stared up at him, lifting his chin just a little. “What’s this?” he snarked. “I didn’t do anything wrong and it’s cold out here!”

Hansol snorted expressively as he reached to pull his sweatshirt off with an impressive stretch of muscle. He had Seungkwan tucked inside it in five seconds flat as Chan shifted to stand between the wind and himself. “You’re planning something, Boo,” he said. “Don’t even think of denying it.”

“Yeah,” Chan added, giving him a singularly irritated look. “Your face looks like that time after Jun- _hyung_ pranked you and you were thinking of how to get back at him.”

“I am not!” Seungkwan pouted, cheeks puffing out.

Sighing, Hansol straightened. “Kwan,” he said gently. “I love you, and one of the things I love the most is how you absolutely can’t lie with your face. Not to mention that I can practically smell it on you.” He gestured between himself and Chan. “We’re your boyfriend and your brother. Please tell us.”

Chan’s smile stretched pretty and pearly-glimmering. “Or I can promise you that I’m going to sit on your tail twenty-four hours in a day from now on, save when you’re being gross with him.” He jerked his thumb at Hansol. “You want to eat? I’ll be in the pantry. You want to clean a painting? I’m going to hand you the brush. You want to take a shit? I’ll be there to hand you the air freshener and complain about how it smells. And I’ll do it loudly. All the _hyungdeul_ will be able to hear me, _including_ whoever you’re scheming against.”

Seungkwan gaped, caught between irritation and mirth. “You’re blackmailing me?” he asked incredulously. “Oh my _gosh._ ”

“Yes,” Chan said simply. “Yes, I am.”

Hansol’s smile stretched wider. “I would never blackmail you, love. But I will protect you.”

Seungkwan opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

:: _Tell them::_ The foreign thought rippling through his mind felt odd, invasive, but warm as well, tinged with the soft, warm brilliance he associated with Minghao. _::Tell them. I keep them quiet.::_

Unhappy, Seungkwan drew in a breath and sighed long and low. “We’re gonna go looking for magic,” he muttered. “The _hyungdeul_ and I. Well, the human ones and Minghao- _hyung_. We’re not just gonna sit here whilst you guys go to war. And we’re not going to fight through the testosterone to get permission either, ‘cause we never would and frankly, we’re our own people, it’s demeaning to have to ask for permission.”

Chan goggled at him. “You were just going to leave us behind?” he asked, anger and vulnerability threading through his voice. “Is it because I’m too young and not powerful yet? That’s so unfair! I’m strong too, I’m almost as strong as Hansol- _hyung_! I’m not a kid anymore!”

Hansol grimaced and sank down on his haunches. “No,” he muttered. “That’s not it. At least that’s not the whole story.”

“I don’t care!” Chan yelled. “What, were you just going to leave us with the babies and then go off and get in trouble?”

“Channie…” Seungkwan said, holding his hands up. “No, that’s not it, I promise it’s not like that…” He fell silent, abruptly feeling guilty.

“Babe,” Hansol said, facial features firming as he straightened. “Hold on a second. How would you explain this anyway?”

Seungkwan swallowed. “A note?” he quavered. “We were going to leave a note. And we have Minghao- _hyung_ with us, he’s really strong…”

“You…!” Chan snarled, expression contorting into a frown, before his voice cracked, he blinked and the world went awry. The explosion coming from him wasn’t physical, but it hit them like a tsunami. Power curled out of him in invisible waves as his anger tipped him over an internal horizon.

Seungkwan, gaping, had a split-second to see the distorted expression on his adopted brother’s face before Hansol hauled him off to the side. “What the hell? What’s going on with Channie?”

Chan’s image wavered, blurred, _bent_ somehow as the power exploding through him bent reality. One second he was still there. In the next, like a candle guttering in a stiff breeze, he simply disappeared, fading from sight. The sound of a body hitting the side of the stable came, then a crumble of brick as something busted through.

“Chan!” Seungkwan screeched as Hansol held him safe. “Chan!”

Hansol, holding him tightly, swung him around and away. “No!” he yelled. “It’s his power hitting him, you’re going to get hit as well! Stop struggling, Kwan!”

The crashing from the barn got worse, underlaid with distant voices, but abruptly grew silent. Moments passed, until they finally looked in cautiously. Inside the barn, he couldn't see anything beyond an odd swirl of sawdust, accompanied by a long moan of pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * As promised, happy birthday to Mingyu! 
>   * There's nothing spicy in this one, because it's so dense with facts. 
>   * Sorry for the historical info-dump! There are a lot of cracks where I had to spackle bits of history together, please don't examine too closely! 
>   * Channie gets his power early? Or not? Who knows what's going on? 
>   * The proverb means 'History is the tutor of Life'. 
> 



	5. Ante Bellum

Chan drifted in and out of consciousness, fighting against a weary lassitude that didn’t want to lift. He felt comfortable, wherever he was, and it wasn’t until the intriguing scent of geraniums came that he surged closer to wakefulness. When he opened his eyes, his senses registered everything: the baby scent close to him, the odd sound of the people talking a little distantly, the running of the wolves in the forest, the beating of hearts…

He winced as the sensations became so sharp they threatened to overwhelm him. Seconds later, a warm hand settled on his brow. The sensations faded again, giving him something to concentrate on, and his eyes finally decided to start working. The roof over him was cast in twilight, with soft pools of light splashing on the painted cupids on the ceiling. He could hear the faint creak of wood as well, with four little pattering heartbeats that fluttered like hummingbirds above clouds of powder.

_I’m in the nursery. I’m hearing the babies._

Cautiously, just in case his eyes malfunctioned again, he peered upwards at the owner of the hand. It wasn’t one of his parents’, he knew that much from the smell; when he finally saw the woman’s face he blinked. She was staring down at him with calm sea eyes, blues and greens shifting oddly. For a moment it felt as if her hand had some power to it, if only to seep out the pain in his head, and he wondered what the nanny was doing, watching over him.

_I can’t remember her name… She's the nanny, right?_

He couldn’t find his voice to ask as he struggled to sit up. She had to help him, which was embarrassing, but that faded as she held a shake bottle full of blood in front of his lips. He latched onto it greedily as she started to speak.

“It’s seven in the evening,” she said calmly. “You’ve been out since yesterday afternoon. You’re in the nursery since it’s the most defensible room in the old part of the house. Everyone else is downstairs, discussing recent happenings. Your sister asked me to keep an eye on you for her.”

Chan had to think slowly and drink fast before his brain kicked into gear. “Sophie?” he muttered. “You’re her, um, friend? The nanny, right? Miss Blaire. I think my dad introduced us the other day.”

She sat backwards, folding her hands on her lap as she watched him drink. “You may call me Ella, if you wish, your lordship.”

Reflecting a moment, uncaring that he was slurping to get the last blood out of the container, Chan looked around him, trying to count the pile of babies in the huge crib. Minseok’s hair he recognised by now, and Eleanor looked to be curled around Iseul, which meant Jimin was the one furthest away…? His mind spun again, still sluggish, though feeding woke him up a little. “I’m not a lord,” he mumbled awkwardly. “You’re Sophie’s friend. Just call me Chan?” His mind hitched again. “Um… is Ella short for something?”

Ella stared at him for a moment, blue-green eyes almost amused, before she nodded. “One of my names is Aella,” she said, pronunciation making it sound not-very-local at all. “Someone I watched over previously couldn’t pronounce that, so she called me Ella, like Cinderella. It stuck.”

Half-sad – he wanted to lick the bottle out, but his manners prevented him – Chan set it aside before moving his legs to hang over the edge of the trundle bed. “Aella,” he said, trying to get it as close as possible. “Aella. Thanks for watching over me. I guess I had better go and face the music.” He caught a momentary look of surprise on her face, a flash of wheat-gold in her dun hair as she tilted her head to look up at him. “Good evening.”

It struck him when she stood up that she was shorter than him by at least a couple of inches and blurry, as if her outline didn’t want to settle on one thing. No matter how he blinked, she _swam_.

“Good evening, your lordship,” the floating woman outline said, and dipped a tiny curtsy. “Be well.”

Chan nodded awkwardly and left the nursery, taking the bottle with him. _Odd_ , his mind insisted as he shut the door behind him. _That was odd._

* * *

He traced the sound of arguments to the library of the large manor house, feet knowing the steps by now. The closer he got the clearer it got, and he sighed as he paused in front of a grand painting, trying to tease apart the threads in the conversation first. His father, arguing softly with his dad. Jihoon and Seungkwan arguing with Sebastian. Jisoo and Seokmin were quieter as they spoke to Soonyoung, but there was tension there as well, thick and not entirely pretty.

_This is going to be wonderful._

He took a deep breath as he stepped forward and into the room, pulling the door open as little as possible to slip through. He had a beat before they focused on him, enough to see that Sophie was there as well, chatting in the corner with the Chinese _hyungdeul_.

_Odd. I thought I would have heard her at least. Perhaps Hao-hyung spun some kind of magic._

As he thought, it wasn’t Jeonghan that got to him first, but Seungkwan who impacted hard enough against him to knock him back a step. He carefully folded his arms around him and hugged. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I really am.”

“Channie, I’m so sorry…” Seungkwan began.

“It’s okay. Later, ok? I need to greet the others,” Chan said, slipping away to go and greet his parents. From them it was Soonyoung and Seokmin and Jisoo, each with a hug and Soonyoung with a proud handshake, before he made for the rest, and finally stopped counting after he wrapped his arms around his sister, whisper-soft and gentle.

A throat clearing behind Chan pulled him away from his hugs, and he turned to find his father frowning. _Well. At least the arguments have stopped._

Seungcheol cleared his throat. “We should have had a party for you,” he said quietly, crossing the room to put a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we can’t do it now, and you’re a few months early in any case. Still, I wanted to say congratulations.” His smile gentled as the frown disappeared, expression gentling. “Congratulations on your majority. I’m proud to have you as my son.”

Jeonghan sniffed. “My baby,” he got out, voice sounding choked. “Try again when you’re two centuries old.”

Chan caught Sebastian’s humoured eye-roll and smile behind his dad’s head, and the immediate protest died on his lips. Smiling, he caught Soonyoung looking to Jihoon, who dug through his pockets and produced an envelope. “We found this lying by the side of the road,” his shortest _hyung_ said nonchalantly. “So, we thought we might as well pick it up and give it to you. If you don’t want it, just throw it away.”

Swallowing, Chan took the envelope and opened it in the sudden silence. Inside were a couple of hand-drawn coupons, hand-drawn with little flourishes and gilding around the edges. There were a couple of monetary gifts, including a sum from his dad that made his eyeballs round, joke gifts from his brothers and sisters, and an increase in salary from Soonyoung, along with a mysterious note about Seungkwan’s ‘services’ being lent to him for a specific period. The piece of paper from his father though… that made his mouth go dry.

_To my second son, on the attainment of his manhood, I bestow in trust the guardianship of the western borders in the form of the lands and grounds of Mulcaster Castle. May its Luck see him safe all his life, as he has kept his family safe._

He looked up with tears in his eyes as he heard a shuffle of movement. Sebastian had a long sword in his hand, still sheathed in a simple sheath: a warrior’s blade, one he had only rarely seen in his father’s hand.

“Kneel,” Seungcheol ordered softly.

A hush fell over the room as Chan did so. He couldn’t see well, eyes too blurry with tears, but he heard the sword sing as his father unsheathed it. He bent his head so that his tears didn’t show, and felt the very gentle, very light touch of the naked steel on first one shoulder, then the next.

“This is the Malfosse Sword,” his father explained to the others. “In the heat of the Battle of Hastings, I came upon Harold, fallen and suffering from an arrow through the eye. Even so, half-blind and near death, he tried to raise his sword, but could not. Instead, he begged me to kill him, that he die by a warrior’s touch. I did, and took any tokens of his that I could find on him, because I knew how he would be treated by the King’s men. That night, under the cover of darkness, I returned them to his family. I swore that day that I was done fighting for valour, and would fight only for my family afterwards.”

Jeonghan wandered closer, though Chan was only able to see the tips of his socked feet. “And so he did, until his hand was forced by Henry Tudor.”

“Beloved…” Seungcheol started.

Soonyoung cleared his throat, sounding amused.

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Who stands for this man?” he asked.

“I do,” Soonyoung affirmed. “He has proven himself in my service, and has protected my family; I stand for his investiture.”

Seungcheol stepped closer, and gave the final tap to Chan’s right shoulder. “I name thee knight, and call ye to take up arms to protect your family, as your brother and sister have done before you. You have already proven yourself, now I am finally able to reward you as you should have been.” He paused, and the sound of the sword being sheathed came again.

Before Chan could stand Jeonghan was kneeling down, kissing his forehead. “You’re still my baby,” he insisted. “Don’t think this lets you get away with anything. It doesn’t work like that.”

Chan opened his mouth to complain, but then Sebastian and Sophie were there, then Seungkwan and Jihoon, and finally he was passed around like a party favour, hugged until all his words disappeared into tears.

“Now,” Minghao insisted, walking closer as he finally got a chance to hug Chan. “Now we plan.”

* * *

Chan collected his sparring clothes and made for the courtyard to meet up with his brother, who had been uncharacteristically quiet on the topic of everything that had happened. He sometimes wondered about Sebastian, who had been born just as the Industrial Revolution had reached its heights; he never spoke much, but was such a strong silent figure in his background that Chan had never had to worry about anything, quite apart from the fact that his parents cared for him.

He made his clattering way down the last few steps and hopped into the small courtyard, glad beyond belief that he could do it in the sunlight now. Reyna had been jealous enough to send him a text about it, but seeing his brother’s features in full sunlight for the first time touched him strangely.

Sebastian smiled his slow smile at him and uncoiled from the perch he had been sitting on. “Look at that,” he teased gently. “My brother, the man, showing his face for the first time like a man does.”

Chan grumbled at the teasing but loped closer, pulling his skin-tight shirt down a little more firmly to tuck it into his pants. “I’ve been a man!” he complained, tilting his head to look up at his taller brother. “I just wish… why couldn’t I have inherited any of the family height? Even Sophie is taller than me!”

“That’s good for you,” Sebastian said uncharacteristically seriously. “You’ve got a powerful build from your dancing; whilst we compensate with our speed and training, you’re always going to have an easier time of moving around because you simply don’t have those extra inches to swing around in your arms and legs. Woozi- _hyung_ , had he been a vampire, would have been utterly frightening.” He paused. “Don’t actually tell him I said that, though.”

Chan’s brow quirked; when he spoke the question that came from his mind was not the one he had planned. “Why are you the one training me? Not that I mind!” he said hastily. “But it’s strange – if we’re going to split up I thought that perhaps it’d be by one of the formal warriors amongst the others? I know we’ve sparred together, but Father’s always been the one to teach me things.”

Sebastian quirked his head to the side to watch him for long moments before he sighed and nodded. “Come on. We’ll go for a run and I’ll tell you.” He set off without waiting, disappearing before Chan could track him with his eyes.

They were halfway around Bassenthwaite Lake before they slowed down, barely winded, but Sebastian pointed a rock out to him and sat. “Father’s a warrior,” he said simply.

Chan frowned. “Yes? I knew that.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I don’t think that you do. Father was born in an era where it was all that people knew. He had no choice but to learn to get very good with it. He fought with William the Conqueror. Against the Mongols with Dad. With Richard at the Crusades. He fought with Henry V at Agincourt. And then he fought against the Templars, and when he finally thought he could stop fighting, Henry Tudor forced him to fight for him in the Battle of Bosworth. By the time they had Sophie and myself, he had just about seen a millennium and a half of battle. That changes a person, gives them certain perspectives.” He paused. “Did you know that Father and I had a huge falling-out the first time I came back from Wonwoo-hyung's teaching and he seriously started training me?”

Chan blinked, struck by the weight of the history Sebastian spoke about. “No,” he said, fascinated. “Why?”

“Because he could no longer look at the world and see it as anything but something to fight,” Sebastian said very quietly. “He tried, but he was an anachronism in a modern era. His first response was violence, and he tried to prepare me like I was going to go off to war too. Swords, the tricks of the trade that he had picked up with Soonyoung- _hyung_. I learnt more about how to disembowel an enemy on the field in my first week than I learnt about running away. I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t know what to do. The world was shouting one thing at me, and my father another. Dad had to step in after a while.”

Staring, _fascinated_ , Chan watched with big eyes. “Did they fight?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Hugely. But Dad was heavily pregnant at the time with you, and Sophie was already wanting to become a healer, so he had to agree to a compromise. You see, it was Dad that realised that half of the problem with the training wasn’t that we couldn’t adapt, but that Father didn’t want to adapt. He didn’t want to pass on violence to us, not after so many years of fighting for freedom for us. So, he gave my training to the other fighter in the family.”

“Soonyoung- _hyung_?” Chan boggled.

“No, _pabo_. I’m saying he gave it to Dad.”

Chan’s mind wanted to implode at the thought of heavily-pregnant-with-him Jeonghan managing any training whatsoever. _Having_ any training whatsoever, until he cast that thought from his mind as stupid and sexist in a very odd way. “Dad trained you?” he asked. “I didn’t know he was a warrior.”

Sebastian shook his head. “He’s not. If he's anything, he's an assassin. He had the subtlety that Father lacked, if not the sheer battlefield experience, but that was what I needed. He had the moral… the moral adaptability of a peasant, not a noble warrior fighting for a huge cause. Father’s a warrior. Dad’s a realist. That’s why he trained me aside from the invisibility issue, and that’s why I get to train you – you don’t need to know how to disembowel someone with a sword. You don’t need to know how to wear plate, and you won’t need to know tactics until later on. You need to know how to get in somewhere, defend yourself and get out again, especially since you’ve seemed to inherit my type of gift. So little brother, I’m going to show you the difference between a warrior and an assassin, and you can see whether you want to learn the one or the other.”

Chan’s heart ached a little for the story not getting told. “Did you two ever… recover? You know? Make up?”

Sebastian frowned. “A little too late, but we did. I won’t say Father doesn’t love me. I am his son and firstborn heir, but I will say he doesn’t always understand me. That’s why I was given management of some of the estates, that I could grow to be a man in my own right rather than a clone of him. Surely it’s not that you don’t think Dad’s a fighter. If he hadn’t picked up a thing or two in the last eight hundred years, don’t you think that he would have been slow?”

Shuddering, Chan shook his head. “I’m not saying that,” he said defiantly as he stood off the rock. “I’m not stupid. So what did you want to show me?”

As it was, Sebastian had so much to show him that his head spun. He ran faster and harder than he ever had before, he worked on his invisibility, he was out at all hours of the day and night to give him some kind of experience. When he finally had a chance to fall down at a table with the one half of the lovebirds a week later, he felt tired to his core and only too pathetically glad to accept the blood-pack from Hansol.

“Dude,” his best friend said. “You look done in.”

Chan grumbled as he stuck a straw in and began to suck at the heated blood. “You don’t look so hot either,” he mumbled around it.

Vernon pinched at the bridge of his nose. “The wolves have been training me,” he admitted. “I can’t change like my dad does, but I can link into their pack-speak, which he can’t, and they’ve been giving me hunting and etiquette lessons. And father’s been taking me through a firearms course, and Muay Thai. I didn’t even know he knew that, but I’m bruised from my chest to my hips. Turns out there’s a lot about him I didn’t know. Between that and the Escrima sticks, I’ve been going through these on fast-forward. Sophie’s put something in them.” He paused. “Your sister is a biochemical genius, you know? And now she’s colluding with Boo.”

Chan paused in ravenously sucking down the blood. “Probably got it from Dad as well. You think that someone’s the warrior in the family and then poof! He turns out to be some kind of badass assassin like that chick in the Avengers movie.”

“Black Widow?” Vernon asked. “She’s hot.”

Chan grimaced but didn’t comment. “Speaking of, where’s Seungkwanie?”

“Training with the Chinese _hyungdeul_ ,” Hansol said easily. “Jun- _hyung_ threw a total fit. I mean, it was an actual meltdown. Turns out that Minghao- _hyung_ is pregnant again, and he had been before, and hadn’t told anyone when he lost the babies trying to rescue Reyna and all their things from the Chinese, just Seungkwan that 'knew somehow'. Thank fuck you missed it out with your brother, I didn’t know where to put my face for a few days. But anyway, he’s gone mental, and he’s training Seungkwanie with your sister as revenge, so he’s some kind of first aider but also seeing if he can learn magic? They suspect he has vampire blood from somewhere far up his lineage, that that’s why he went so weird taking my blood, and he’s so protective of Woozi- _hyung_ and us.”

Against his will Chan’s lip wobbled. “What can he do?” he asked softly. “He’s still just a human. And Seokmin- _hyung_ and the two of us will be the only vampires along with the babies as the rest hunt down the Templars.” Hansol’s hand reaching to arrest his on the half-empty pack made him look up, half-surprised.

“I’m afraid and tired too,” Hansol said baldly. “But this has got to end. I can’t ask him to marry me whilst we’re still under this kind of pressure. And he can’t be the big brother he wants to be towards you with this hanging over his head. So give him his dignity, alright? All the humans… they’ve working hard too, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they kicked as much ass as we could.”

Chan stared at him, realising that he _had_ been afraid underneath everything, and how silently ashamed he had been because men shouldn’t be afraid, and promptly burst out crying. That was how Seungkwan finally found them, which caused a flurry of hugs and complaining at ‘Hansolie’, but soon they sat tightly clustered around the table, shoulder to shoulder, and found a moment to be themselves again against the backdrop of crazy going on.

* * *

Soonyoung sat in their large bedroom, back braced against the foot of the bed and eyes focused on his husband. Jihoon had hauled out bags and luggage with great vigour, but now he tarried over the smallest things, almost as if something were bothering him.

Case in point: comparing ties. Who wore a tie to fucking _Siberia_?

Soonyoung didn’t blame him either. He had argued passionately against splitting up, knowing from bitter experience where that landed a person, and had listened as Jihoon argued just as passionately: that they needed an edge, that it would be safer than hunkering down here, that despite the fairy tales people didn’t eat people, for god’s sake.

Soonyoung wished very much he could tell Jihoon all the things that would prove him wrong, but his Hoonie had an innocence to his soul he didn’t want to tarnish, and when it came right down to the marrow of it, he simply didn’t have the kind of mindset required for centuries of life yet. It was something he had learnt early on in his vampiric life: there was always something trying to kill you off. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you could outlive whatever vexed you, as long as you were careful.

On the other hand, one of them had dared to attack his little family. Jihoon had only survived with Minghao’s blood, and there was fire in Soonyoung’s soul, and an awful urge to burn the world down to protect them.

It was a very interesting position to be in: he felt as if he would go mad if he didn’t move, but he knew the moment he moved he would burst into action and it would be swords and old-style diplomacy and blood. He had still not told Jihoon precisely how many he had slaughtered to keep that race safe.

So he sat there, and he watched his beloved dither, and very carefully didn’t say anything until Jihoon turned to him to hold up the two ties. “The green knit one,” he said without much vigour. “It complements your complexion.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed at him. “You’re not taking this seriously,” he said, small face scrunching up a little as he tossed both ties to the side. “We talked about this. Why I have to do this.”

Soonyoung smiled at him. “Yes, and you won the argument. That doesn’t mean I agree with you in any fashion whatsoever.” He paused for a moment. “You’re not going to take ties to Siberia in any case. It might be their summer right now, but it’s still going to be fucking cold. You won’t even be able to wear your slides. It’ll be a slide travesty.” Another pause. “What’s worrying you?”

Jihoon paused for a moment, looking as if he was debating whether his husband had made a slide pun, or was merely being very silly. “I’m worried about the babies. And the nanny.”

“You can’t leave them here,” Soonyoung pointed out. “We’ll be gone as well, and the ancient wards will be up. All matters of the house and estate will be in my mortal steward’s hands, and we’ve already evacuated all our family over here, just in case. There’s still time to drop them with your mother. Vampire speed might get them there in time. Otherwise they’ll have to stay on the move the whole time, like Sophie and Reyna.”

Jihoon’s expression crumpled and he sank down on his haunches into a tiny bundle, which only made Soonyoung want to scoop him into a hug, but four years of marriage had taught him better than that. Jihoon came to you, not the other way around. “What?” he asked instead.

“I’ve had the lessons with the others,” Jihoon said, voice muffled by his hands. “I know how to handle a pistol… more or less. And a dagger. I’m not the best with either. But it frightens me, the thought that whether I’m good or not won’t matter because I’d die to protect my kids in any case, if I can’t take out whatever’s attacking them. Why the fuck can’t the world just make a little more sense? We’ve not done anything to them! Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

Soonyoung, mouth dry, concentrated on the tousled blonde mess Jihoon was raking his hair into. Pristinely, precisely, memories of all the blood on his hands marched past his mind’s eye. “Jihoon-ah,” he said as gently as he could. “In a certain way, we started it, and hates can turn ancient in the blinking of an eye. We made that bed so long ago that I’m sorry you have to lie down on it now, but it’s here, and it’s not going to go away.”

Making a small noise, Jihoon duck-waddled forward to sit down at his side. His eyes were red with irritated tears about to form when he spoke. “The little thermal suits for the babies arrived,” he said instead. “They’re tiny. The little booties are even worse. They make balaclavas for babies, did you know? I could only get them in white and red, but I think Jiminie is still sleeping with the red one. He grabbed it immediately. I’m just freaking out, I guess.”

Soonyoung carefully draped an arm around his husband’s shoulders. “Here’s what I learnt about packing,” he said, forcefully pushing old memories away. “Mostly, I pack my credit card. There are always companies in the places you’re going to that will have most of the stuff you buy here, if not better, because they know what’s needed. So pack small, just a few things to get you there, and then buy what you need. It’ll save you on having heavy luggage. It was a good thing to get things for the kids here though, I don’t know if you can find that anywhere. You just save space for that heap of things that Sophie’s sending along. Don’t think I didn’t see you wrinkle your nose at the increased supplements this morning. I want my Jihoonie back hale and healthy.”

Jihoon wrinkled his nose again, terribly so, to underscore what he thought of that. “I have so much of your blood in me by now I’m practically a vampire anyway,” he grumbled. “But I don’t have a choice. Miss Blaire is on Sophie’s side in this, so it’ll end up in her bags even if it’s not in mine.” He paused. “Actually… what did you mean earlier? When you said the wards would be up?”

Soonyoung smiled, glad of the distraction. “Let me go and show you instead, alright?”

They wandered out of the manor, hastening past everyone else, and meandered into the forest quite a distance, Jihoon perched on Soonyoung’s shoulders for speed and the view. Up Wolf Hill, down into the overgrown dip behind it, until they came to a section of the estate that he had never seen before. Another hill, but this one ringed by old, broken-down rocks nearly chewed to nubs by centuries of wilderness.

“Wow,” he muttered as Soonyoung put him down near the apex of the rock. “I didn’t know this was here. Why have you never showed me before?”

Soonyoung looked around, up at the sky, and oriented himself towards north, pulling Jihoon with him between two chewed-down dolmens. “I haven’t had to think about it in ages,” he said mildly. “I got the estate from William, but it wasn’t a unanimous decision, you realise. The druids especially didn’t like an upstart from there suddenly having lordship over them. One of the concessions I made – because I just wanted to have a rest – was that I wouldn’t do anything about their rituals or religion, or try to interfere in their sacred ceremonies. I didn’t care, my faith had never been that strong, so I agreed. In turn, they did two things. They tied me to the land, like they did their kings of old, and they introduced me to the Underfolk.”

Jihoon trundled along, fingers trailing across the old, lichen-covered stones, and imagined that he could still feel them hum a little. “Who were they?”

Soonyoung shot him a wide smile. “I never quite understood, but they lived below hills somehow. Sacred hills, like this one we’re standing on. Dwarves, Fae… _other beings_. It was only a few meetings, once to consult a few dwarves on a construction project I did for the people here, and once a fae king, when they tied me to this stone with blood.” He pointed to a central bump, vaguely angular. “That one. It nearly didn’t take, what with me blood not being human, but it allowed me old protections on the area, protections that sleep even now. They’ll be here until this rock rots away. See… look here.” Hunkering down, he twitched a plant away and pointed at the rock beneath.

Jihoon stared at it with wide eyes. The rock itself had eroded a little, but there were strange spirals and carvings on them, still inlaid with something with a dark red hue. Fantastical shapes, most of them slightly off to his perception. “Are they still around?” he asked eagerly. “Maybe if we can activate this, we can activate other places as well, build some safe-homes. We can ask them, right?”

Grimacing, Soonyoung straightened and shook his head. “No, they all died a long time ago. The real druids went first, and the last dwarf I ever saw looked so old I couldn’t believe it. They closed the areas off somehow, said it wasn’t safe for them anymore, not for a great many centuries yet. And even if I could ask them, they likely wouldn’t do it. They only tolerated me for the druids’ sake. But it still works, and that’s why you have to leave first with everyone, and I’ll leave last. Once these go up, no one will be able to walk in or out of the places I designate, and it’ll stay that way.”

Jihoon, straightening as well, frowned as something zipped across his burgeoning connection with Soonyoung’s mind. “What was that?” he asked suspiciously.

Soonyoung twitched for a moment, before he tucked his lips into a rueful line. “Just wondering whether they’d mind if we had sex right above their doorstep,” he said idly.

Snorting expressively, Jihoon turned and walked away, ignorant of the look Soonyoung cast him, or the way his husband’s hand lingered on the stone for a moment more before he too left. Neither pair saw the varicoloured eyes watching them from a particularly overgrown thicket, or a particularly poignant prayer for safety whispered before the onlooker left.

* * *

Minghao sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes lightly closed in meditation as he concentrated on the new life growing within him. It was a stress on his already-stressed system, keeping the two safe there with all he had to do, but it was simply not a contest. It was simply not…

It was simply…

“How are they?” Jun asked practically next to his right ear, voice tense.

Minghao fought a sigh as he opened his eyes and focused on his restless, now-prowling mate. “They’re doing fine,” he said. “I have taken in your suggestions and those of Sophie, and I am maintaining a stable environment for them. They are fine. I am fine. We are all three fine.” His hands fought not to curl. “Please calm down.”

Jun’s expression wasn’t pleasant. “You trained too long with Seungkwanie this morning, and you didn’t have your third blood-bag.”

_Ancient emperors, give me patience,_ Minghao prayed very quietly. Jun had been like a bear with a sore paw for the past two days, and it looked as it today wouldn’t be any better. “If you have one extra now, I’ll drink it now,” he said in an effort to keep the peace.

One materialised with startling speed and he nearly sighed out loud, which would have been a grievous error, but was saved at the last moment by Joshua entering the room.

“Oh good,” the American said in his broad accent. “You’re awake and done with your things, it seems. Jun-ah, Seokie wanted to check in with you in the practice room, something about some training he remembered from the Middle Ages? He could use your help, and I need Minghao-ya here to help me as well.” He smiled as Jun predictably drew breath. “I’ll make him drink the bag, I promise, and we’re just going to be downstairs in Jihoon-ah’s study. I’ll call if we need you, your hearing is so good you’ll certainly hear.”

Jun left with a great deal of staring; somehow Minghao managed to keep his expression serene until the door shut. He counted to three, listened very carefully, and very softly said something filthy in a language his mother would have scrubbed his mouth out for. Disgruntled, he tossed the untouched bag on the bed next to him, and grimly got up.

“Still angry, isn’t he?” Joshua opined, reaching for the bag.

Minghao nodded. “Underneath all jokes he feels deeply,” he explained. “And I hurt him. It is understandable. Also frustrating. Thank you for the rescue.”

Joshua smirked as he tossed him the bag. “It’s not a rescue. Drink that first as we walk down.”

Minutes later, with the last of the blood consumed, the two of them entered the studio to find the other mortals clustered around the large table there. Jeonghan waved them closer and they managed to find a little bit of space before he continued.

“According to the legends we’ve read and what Minghao-ah could remember, her last known location might not be that far north,” Jeonghan explained. “Mostly the sightings occurred here in the area on the border between Finland and Russia. We’ll take a series of flights here, to Murmansk – remind me to thank Seokmin for his connections there, I didn’t even know he could speak Russian, let alone knew any Russians.”

Joshua snorted and eyeballed his fiance at his side. “ _I_ didn’t even know it, until he offered. One day I’ll get a list of his journeys out of him.”

Jeonghan grinned at him across the map. “It’ll be polar night when we get there, so the sun won’t ever come up all the way, and it'll be freezing. Jihoonie, you have the cream for the babies and the hoods?”

Jihoon nodded. “I’ve gone over the safety protocols with Miss Blaire and Sophie, and I have extra face-guards if we should need them.”

“We’ll have to go to the villages,” Seokmin said softly. “We will have to talk to them, get the stories out of them. Many won’t trust us, especially not in a strong Orthodox-influenced area. If she’s been there that long, she’ll have friends amongst the natives, she’ll know the safe places and she’ll be able to go to ground if she wishes. The man that I spoke to said that he has heard of sightings as far north as Severny Island, but everyone laughs them off. It’s like Aquaman – if people do know about her, they’ll protect her.”

Hansol cleared his throat softly. “Why does she hate men so much?”

Minghao put the empty bag aside. “It is not in stories, but our legends go she married once to man she thought she loved and that loved her. He steal her power and hide it away to make himself immortal. Koschei. It not a name, I think, I don’t know. But she has been betrayed by everyone but children, which is why she is believed to love children very much.”

“None of the stories are very kind either, most make her out to be a hideous hag,” Seungkwan said from the side. “Most talk about how ugly she is, and even her name means a lot of horrible things, depending on which country you look to for its etymology. Some people think she’s a trio of sisters. I don’t think we’re going to get much more done from here. It’s simply too far away.”

Jeonghan nodded. “Chan’s receiving a last few pointers from Sebastian. Everything should be ready and everyone ready to go by Thursday. Joshuji?”

“I’ve booked the flights and gotten the passports and visas from Seokie’s contact,” Joshua said, one hand lingering to play with the small hairs at his fiance’s nape. “Our credit cards will be valid there as long as they take cards.”

“I arranged for some physical currency as well,” Seokmin said. “Just in case, and some gold. I’ve found sometimes that physical money and gold can get me further than cards. I once booked a passage out of the Mekong Delta with my watch.” He grumbled. “Got out safely though. And I suppose in a pinch…”

“No, _hyung_ ,” Seungkwan said immediately as he looked up and to Minghao. “Sorry. If Jun- _hyung_ or Sophie hear that we asked Minghao- _hyung_ to teleport us around again, they will use my head as a bowling ball. We can’t. No teleporting of any sort, no stress. In exchange, Jun- _hyung_ said that he’d make me some amulets and protective things to take with us.”

Minghao fought not to snap. “I’m _fine_.”

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungkwan said fearlessly. “I am more afraid of him than of you at this moment.”

The group laughed, enough for Minghao to sigh and nod. “Jun makes good talismans and other devices,” he said. “It might be well.”

“Right!” Jeonghan said. “So let’s go through this one last time…”

* * *

“You didn’t tell him,” Seungcheol said as he stood next to Soonyoung, watching Sebastian take Chan through his paces. “Jihoon.”

Soonyoung gave him a slanted gaze sideways before he looked back at the two circling fighters. Each had two small daggers, barely large enough not to be a knitting needle, but it seemed Chan was learning speed very well, and if he knew anything about it Sebastian had already talked to him about poisons and the like. “No,” he said at length. “He doesn’t need to know.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t need to know that you’re practically going to bleed yourself out over this land to bring the wards up? I think he might be interested to know that.”

“Jihoonie can’t do anything about it. If I want them to last and protect everyone until we can get back, then I’m going to have to do what I can do,” Soonyoung said. “And we’ll have no talks with him on the subject either, they’re already so busy with arrangements it’s best just to let them get on with things.”

“Hmmm,” Seungcheol opined, but dropped the topic. “In any case, I feel better that Seokmin’s going with them, and the kids. I’ve made arrangements for a safehouse in Paris. We’ll start there where it all started and work our way out. If they attacked Jihoon on the spot their last Grandmaster died, then it’s definitely been planned for a few months. We’ll go, be a little noisy, and see what kinds of rats we beat out of the woodwork.”

Soonyoung nodded, but paused. “If anything happens…”

Seungcheol reached to silence him with a hand on his shoulder. “We made that pledge a long time ago,” he reminded gently. “If anything happens to me, you’ll take care of Jeonghanie and my kids. If anything happens to you, the same.”

Soonyoung gave him a skewed smile. “It’s just funny, you know. Why are they coming out of the woodwork now? I feel that’s the question we’ve still not answered. Why now, when we have kids? What about the kids threaten them so much that they willingly showed themselves and arranged that? Why not when Eleanor and Minseokie came along?”

“I don’t know. We still don’t know that they weren’t involved in that. It could just be that they’re getting desperate. They’re finally seeing our race in an upswing again, maybe that’s enough to bring them out of the woodwork.” Seungcheol paused. “Channie’s doing well. Surprisingly so.”

Soonyoung nodded intently. “He’s adapting very quickly,” he muttered. “Cheol-ah, he was still a few weeks out, wasn’t he? It’s not his birthday until sometime next February? Have you ever heard of anyone that got their ascendency early? From everyone I’ve managed to talk to before, they always said it was like an alarm clock. One day they were still children, and one day they were a century old, and they had their power. You two didn’t make a mistake with his birthday, did you?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “It was a bit dodgy with Sebastian and Sophie, but we had good records for Chan. I remember it really well, actually. Lenin died in January that year, and in February we danced to Gershwin in New York City. That night… well. The pregnancy lasted much longer, probably because we were only then figuring things out, but Sophie kept extensive notes. He was born on February 11. Jeonghan nearly killed me because I later teased him that we should name Chan Henry after Henry the Eighth.” He paused. “Perhaps because of the long pregnancy, things went awry?”

Soonyoung nodded reluctantly. “Perhaps.” He took a deep breath. “What say we go and invite them to a little two-on-two tag? It’ll be the last time we can play, before everything happens Thursday.”

“Let’s. I’ve been _dying_ to knock Sebastian down a peg or two as well, the smug little wolf.”

* * *

The nursery door opened quietly, disturbing the sacred air in which the babies slept. Most, at least. As was his habit by now, Jimin woke as steps came closer to the cradle he slept in with the other three, and he stopped gumming at the red fuzzy thing in his hands.

A familiar face hove into view, blurred in the way it normally was but for the eyes. “Hush, little warrior,” the voice soothed, and the varicoloured eyes settled on a cool, soothing blue. “Hush. We’re not here to harm you. You’re safe.”

Another shape came closer and Jimin scowled at it, waving his pudgy baby limbs to distract and focus the attention on him, even as he tried to roll between it and his sister. It didn’t help, his limbs didn’t want to obey him, but he tried, waving his red thing like a bull would a cloth.

“Are you sure, my queen?” came a very deep voice from the face he didn’t quiet recognise.

“Yes,” said the beloved voice. “We have a very few moments before they come to fetch the babies.” She did something that Jimin couldn’t see, but moments later he felt something dribbly and wet on his forehead, and opened his mouth to complain.

His mouth fell shut when he heard the singing start. He didn’t understand very many words at all, but it was as if his heart understood these, like the stories Nanny told them about the languages of the animals. It sang and sang, and the more it sang the more the spot of something on his forehead seemed to glow. There was a moment that felt as if a million faces looked at him, but then they faded as he was picked up and held, and the same happened to his sister and Minseok and Eleanor. Four times the voice sang, tying something into place between him; he wasn’t sure he liked it, so he fought the strong hands that held him, and drooled fiercely on the man’s long long long face hair.

“Ugh,” the deep voice said after he got put back with his sister and friends. “That one’s a fighter. I see what you meant.”

“We need him,” the beloved voice said. “And her, and the other two as well. Now more than ever. You have my gratitude, Thorivar. I know it’s hard to breathe in the dead air here. You are sure the ancient one won't see it?”

“We each do what we must. And no, he won't. But my queen, to tie your life to theirs…”

Gentle hands soothed Jimin back into the puppy-pile of babies and tucked the blankets around him again. “Nothing is safe where they are going, Thorivar,” the voice said. “They’re our last hope.They _must_ survive. Come. We must leave quickly.”

The noises faded and left Jimin to look up at the fascinating turning swirling thing above him. Even as a baby, he was confused, but there was nothing frightening now. He had frightened them off with his red thing, and it was safe again, and…

He paused to consider, then wailed out loud, realising abruptly that his stomach felt very empty indeed. He wailed and wailed, until Short Parent Love World Safeness came in and lifted him, nuzzling and tickling at him and holding out what felt like … ahhh, yes. _FOOD_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * I bet you thought I'd be late. I thought so too. I can't write at all these days. 
>   * The [place](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muncaster_Castle) that they clubbed together to get Chan. Not because Seungcheol couldn't afford it alone, but because everyone else insisted on sharing as well. 
>   * The Malfosse sword is named after the Malfosse ditch that comes from the [Battle of Hastings](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Hastings) and is a very simple blade that looks something like[this](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/65/da/70/65da7090a0a42efa55ae21562f678f9b.jpg). Since it's Seungcheol's sword from that age, it's got no historical provenance. 
>   * Traditionally, sons of nobles served as pages and squires in another lord's household until they gained their majority, and could then become eligible for the rank of 'knight'. 
>   * We explore a little of Sebastian.
>   * Ante Bellum means 'before the war'. 
> 



	6. Dii facientes adiuvant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Dii facientes adiuvant. -- God helps those that help themselves. 
>   * Warning: graphic gore in this one. Do not read Dino's first section if you can't handle it. 
> 


It was cold.

It was dark.

It was cold and it was dark.

Seungkwan could deal with both conditions, but there was something about the cutting wind on the airfield they landed on at Murmansk that sliced right through his thermal gear and settled in his kidneys. All of a sudden he regretted not going to the loo that last time, and he looked around suspiciously at the place as they all clustered on the lee side of a small cargo container, waiting for the gods knew what.

The place looked… it looked _dismal_ , as far a sight from Heathrow as he had ever seen, and the airstrip looked to have cracked little pieces around the edge, and a distressing lack of illumination. It didn’t help any that most of the vampires could see in this as well as daylight; to him it looked like a grim, dark hole of a place. Suspicion reared its ugly head around his third shiver, and he peeked his head out of the protective circle the three vampires tried to form around them.

“Seokmin-hyung,” he mumbled through frozen lips. “Seokmin- _hyung_ , is this a _military_ airfield? Where are the other planes?” He struggled to peer into the dark depths. “Why is our pilot doing what looks like a money handshake with that guy?”

Next to him the nanny rocked from foot to foot, arms filled with the huge lump of blankets they had wrapped the babies in. She looked miserable as well, pale and not entirely well.

“It’s alright,” Seokmin’s calm voice came from the darkness. “They’re expecting us. Give them a moment.”

Seungkwan had no choice but to wait; whatever was in the weather around here seemed to laugh at what Britain thought of as protective clothing. Still, a couple of moments later a tall man stepped forward out of the darkness. Very handsome, blonde, a very sculpted face and extremely upright bearing, the only physical flaw he could see was the slight limp beneath what looked like a very _warm_ greatcoat.

His kidneys insisted that he go over and steal it; sniffling, he tried to remind them that all parts of him were civilised, even the cold ones. Just because the place gave him the heebie-jeebies…

“Leonid,” Seokmin greeted as he stepped forward. They clapped hands together, did a quick one-two hug over each shoulder and slapped each other on the back. “Thank you for meeting with us. Is everything still alright?”

The tall man gave a small smile. “All is fine,” he said in a very low, heavily accented English before he broke into fast, low Russian. One of his hands snapped up, gesturing for something, as he took Seokmin aside.

The motion seemed an order, because a large vehicle came roaring over the tarmac to them, and halted just to their side. Another Russian clambered out, this one in a patently military uniform, and opened the door to the back of the van for them, gesturing them in quickly. “In, in,” he urged, seemingly the only word in English he knew.

Seungkwan hopped when it was his turn, and wanted to pass out with sheer bliss. The inside of the van was toasty-warm, more than offsetting the cracked leather seats and the military style of it. He settled in quickly, pulling his tote onto his lap.

Seconds later the heat turned into a curse. He really, _really_ had to pee now, to the point that he jittered with it.

No one spoke when Seokmin and his friend returned. They were all shuffled into the van as well, the young man that had opened the door let the old engine roar, and they were off. Inside of five minutes he was inside the ugliest place he had ever seen, filled with what looked like old Russian portraits and ugly concrete walls. A half-mimed, half-whispered conversation saw him to the bathroom, which was far uglier than the rest of the building, and he scurried clear and back to the lounge as soon as he could.

“How was the flight?” Leonid was asking as he rejoined. “You own Gulfstream now, my friend?”

Seungkwan grimaced as he accepted a mug that smelled very sweet and extremely caffeinated. He sank in over it instead, ignoring the chatter, as he thought of the flight that they had taken to get here. Half of it had been boring, and half of it frantic as everyone tried to calm down Jihoon when he went into a spastic, rage-filled screaming session. It had set the babies off, and it had been _ugly_ , especially when Jihoon had calmed down enough to tell them what was wrong.

Seungkwan didn’t think he’d ever forget the description of his _hyung’s_ pain as distant Soonyoung- _hyung_ had sacrificed blood to the druid altar to bring up the protections on the estate. Oh, he had known theoretically that in the days of old that such things were speculated, but it wasn’t until Jihoon raged at Soonyoung for nearly bleeding out that he had considered what they had asked, and what lengths the vampires would go to, to protect all of them.

He still felt guilty that he thought it had been wise for Soonyoung- _hyung_ not to tell Jihoonie- _hyung_ , or else they would never have gotten on the plane.

The coffee now… he really wished the caffeine would kick in, he felt more tired than ever.

His attention phased in again as Chan reached to tap his hand, and he blinked to find all eyes on him. “Excuse me?”

Leonid had another small smile ready. “Would you like another?”

The young guy – was he older than seventeen? – that had made him coffee the first time was there as well, looking inquisitive.

Seungkwan surrendered his empty mug as he flushed from embarrassment. “Yes, please.”

“You will need different clothes as well,” Leonid went on. “This is the North. I have some old gear you can buy – hats, coats, mittens, so on – but you will need to go to a store as soon as possible. I… yes?”

“Excuse me,” Seungkwan whispered, trying to push through his brain-fog in the heat. “Sorry, you must have covered this whilst I was in the bathroom. Is this… is this a _military_ base?”

“It was once upon a time, about twenty years or so ago,” Leonid said. “Now it is a convenient place for favours for people. The new base is across the bay, a little more North. They will not bother us here. I have seen to it. Such arrangements are not out of the ordinary. The generals do not mind lining their pockets with a little extra cash from hiring it out.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan muttered vaguely. “Um. Okay? How much longer until morning?”

The tall man gave him a strange stare. “It just before noon now,” he said slowly. “It is polar night.” His gaze transferred to Seokmin. “He does not look good. You bring sick boy to the North?”

Seungkwan’s eyelids fluttered as attention focused on him again. “No,” he said faintly. “I’m fine. Just… sorry, I forgot. Just a little sleepy.” _Gosh darn it, where’s that man with the caffeine?_

The man moved like a panther, fast enough that Seungkwan could not process it, and had his hood stripped away from his head to peer into his eyes and feel at his neck with fever-warm hands. Seungkwan lolled, unable to fight, vaguely wondering why his brain felt like treacle all of a sudden. Very distantly the babies were crying out as well, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was so tired, so very tired…

Darkness flushed in front of him, growing like frost on a window, and he knew no more as he started to jerk and convulse.

* * *

Chan stood on the darkened tarmac as Hansol rushed inside, nose flaring. The wind howled around him, but he felt little of its bite. Instead, eyes half-mast, he concentrated on the smells around him. Gasoline, high-octane remnants from the fuel once used, and something sharp and chemical dominated the scent, but there was sea and ice and the odd twinge of ash as well. The man that had poisoned Seungkwan had seemingly gotten away clear, but something prompted him to stay out here.

_Fire,_ his mind supplied. _Someone’s making fire, or they have a coal powerplant somewhere near? I don’t know it._

His clothes rustled and he impatiently pulled his coat off, trying to get the human smell on it away from him. It fetched up against the low administrative building’s side as it fluttered away immediately, but it removed the scent of cologne and deodorant and baby formula that clung to it. For a moment, totally out of it, he thought he smelled geraniums, before he ignored it with a shake of its head.

In. Out. In… out.

_There_.

Just the faintest scent, but he had smelled it before; the van they had driven to the building in had a pine air freshener, but this was different. This was real. This was…

He was running before he could process it, but he crossed the tarmac in a flash of movement, loud thud-thud-thud of footsteps fading towards hard earth before he almost twisted an ankle hitting gravel. Cursing – he didn’t have much time! – he stripped his shoes and socks off, anchoring toes into the gravel before he started again.

This time it was like flying. It didn’t hurt, not in the least, and the breeze felt like a mere kiss against his cheeks as he warmed up, flushed with the exercise. He had the scent of pine in his nostrils now, that and less pitchy trees, but he _had_ it. The path trailed away, matched with gasoline from an engine, and crossed the boundary line. His body contracted and released at the last, powerful legs propelling him over the fence into the wildness beyond.

_Thank gods it’s dark._ Hyung _would kill me if he saw me running like this in the daylight where people could see._

It was difficult following the trail of the car after that initial moment, but slowly his nasal acuity sharpened, _adapted_ until he sensed the difference in combustion between it and other vehicles. He didn’t even need that when the road led outside, into the tenements that shot up, and finally into the countryside beyond. He especially didn’t need it when his ears picked up the noise of the car, and he was deep in the forest beyond when he heard it stop. His feet stuttered, almost tripping him, but he leant into the long skid and fell quiet, breathing to listen.

It was very, very, _very_ quiet around him. His breathing disappeared beneath the city noise far behind, and the pinging of the hot engine above the idling sound of it.

His instincts barely saved him, jerking his head aside as the bullet chewed into the tree-trunk next to his face. Another, and a third before he skidded into motion again, cursing internally.

_A man that could track a vampire like that, could shoot like that even in the dark? He’s a hunter, and used to our speed, so why did he try and kill Seungkwanie like that? Why poison?_

Another bullet, and another, and still he heard only the faintest of sounds.

_There_. A merest flicker of movement, but it was enough to hone in on, and he jumped, arcing high into the air as he reached behind him for the daggers Sebastian had showed him how to smuggle through customs… not that they passed Customs.

Despite his speed, Chan didn’t get the man, who twisted nimbly aside, but got close enough that he saw a flash of faint, wet rheum from his eyes. This close the pine fragrance was overwhelming, artificiality overlaid with sweat and cheap deodorant and some kind of oil.

One blade hissed out of the dark at him and he twisted away, slashing down-and-across the arm that tried to attack him, adding blood to the mix. He felt like a savage that it sharpened his senses, woke something that he had never felt before. His mouth watered, and suddenly it didn’t seem so difficult – the man was just a man, not a vampire to be afraid of.

The man hissed with pain. “Abomination,” he snarled out, English quite passable, and danced forward like a mongoose. “Setting foot in our pure land, like you have some right to be here. I cast you out, I _spit_ on you!”

“Dude, I…” Chan sassed right back, only to scream with pain as the moment’s lapse of concentration cost him the advantage, and he felt a blade pierce through his kidney the first time. Once, twice, with a savage sideways slice each time, and he barely managed to pull away.

_Think, damn you,_ think! _What would Sebastian have done?_

_Ha. Trick question,_ a part of his mind jeered back. _Sebastian would have garotted him with chicken wire five minutes ago already. Stop playing_.

Chan fell back, panting for clarity amidst the pain, and even that had a reaction: smooth as a striking snake, the man dropped one blade, reached behind him and pulled out what looked like a stake. Chan nearly boggled. “A stake?” he asked, dodging back-back-back. “You’re actually going to…”

The man lunged forward and buried the stake in one thigh, and Chan’s world went up in fire. It was as if something struck a match to oil; whatever was on the stake ignited his blood with so much searing pain that he couldn’t think, couldn’t see, and he gave another scream, this time long and shrill. Words burnt in the air before him, too bright to give him any kind of idea of what they were, but the man’s laughter, _that_ he heard, mocking and satisfied and cruel.

No.

_No._

It wasn’t a choice at all, but a giving-up, a surrendering to the thing that snarled deep inside his screaming, pain-wracked body. It ignited and cold returned, freezing cold that soothed and sank into his being from what felt like a spot on his forehead. The scream of pain turned into a roar, and his body lashed forward viper-quick, reaching for the mocking hunter through the flames. His hands flashed once, then twice, and the laughter gurgled to a stop as warm fluids spurted out. The air turned rancid, and Chan’s hands were bathed in thick, visceral, _hot_ things.

He yanked, twisted and reached up, knotting them around his hand as his head lashed out and he sank his teeth into the man’s neck. The blood spurted hot and sweet into his mouth, so much more potent than animal blood, so much _richer_ than anything he had ever had before. It washed away the burning in a flood of iron-tanged deliciousness.

For the first time in his life, he drank a human’s death, and it exploded the world around him. He saw the smallest movements of leaves, felt the wind-chill even though it didn’t affect him, smelled the clouds’ scent change as they moved across the polar night sky. His head snapped around – for a moment he saw a child’s face looking at him from the dark – and then it disappeared, and the horror of what he had done sank in.

Chan looked down at himself, mouth still covered with blood and one hand knotted around the dead man’s entrails, and discovered what it felt like to have innocence ripped away from him. Tears welled up immediately, and he started crying for his childhood as he broke off the stake.

* * *

Seungkwan woke in the dark, and for a moment didn’t know where he was. It smelled of aniseed and cloves, there was something really heavy over him, and he could feel his entire body flush with heat right down to his toes. There was someone else with him; it made him feel a little less confused when he curled sideways and into Hansol’s side, and the hand that came to rest on the back of his head made him feel even better.

He closed his eyes and nestled his face into Hansol’s shoulders. In just a little while he’d have to get up to go to Windsor Castle, and if he was very lucky he could get a bit more sleep in before he had to wake up.

“Kwan.”

_Oh gosh._ He determinately ignored Hansol’s voice and burrowed a little closer.

“C’mon, wake up.”

Hansol’s voice sounded rough and a little afraid, the longer he thought of it, until it filtered through to him that maybe something had happened. “My parents?” he asked blurrily, trying to castigate his brain awake.

_Coffee. Coffee is a must._

“Kwan, wake UP!”

Seungkwan floundered awake out of the dream, eyes really snapping open to a pinprick of light that resolved into worried faces. He felt as if something had kicked every part of his body, and the couch beneath him was the most uncomfortable thing ever, and had Jisoo- _hyung_ just smacked him? “Ow!” he complained, struggling to sit up straight. His body was on fire, burning in every extremity, and there were worried faces looming around him, and things were _really confusing_.

“What the hell?” he heard Seokmin- _hyung_ roar. “I trusted you, Leonid!”

Grimacing, barely managing to taste the water Jisoo- _hyung_ forced on him past the taste of Hansol’s blood in his mouth, Seungkwan managed to struggle up to a seated position as Jisoo fell away. Oddly, the bottle of water crinkled underneath his fingertips; seeing Evian bottled water in this armpit of the world surprised him.

Jisoo’s hands gentled, helping him up enough that he could see. Hansol was nowhere to be seen, Chan was missing, and the rest of them were in a tight little bundle as well, clustering close to the couch. The babies were … the babies were on his legs?

Nothing made sense.

There came a meaty, thick sound before Hansol breezed into the room, blurring with speed. “He escaped,” he heard as Hansol came to him; seconds later he had his arms around him, and he breathed in deeply. He smelled of cold and ice and Hansol, and it wasn’t until Miss Blaire came in the door as well that everyone relaxed a bit. For the first time Seungkwan could remember, she looked _angry_ ; he tried to blink to make her settle down but she remained annoyingly blurry until she pressed the warm cloth in her hands to his face, washing it clean like she would one of the babies.

The palaver going on behind them – Seokmin and the Russian were still shouting, but this time Jihoon was there as well, bellowing at the top of his lungs – tired him out too much, so he turned his attention away from it. “What happened?” he asked tiredly. “I remember the plane, and then how cold it was, and nothing beyond that.”

Jeonghan answered with a grimace and a nose-wrinkle. “The man that made the drinks. He poisoned you somehow. We only found out when Leonid started examining you and you started flailing and spewing black bile.”

“It was really unattractive,” Joshua added mildly. “Don’t do it again. It’s not a good look for you.”

Seungkwan grimaced as well, seeing the worry in Jisoo’s eyes. “I had… you gave me blood, right?” he asked, pulling away a little from Hansol burrowing into his neck to speak to him.

“I had to,” Hansol mumbled into his throat. “We didn’t know what he gave you.”

Unwilling to push, Seungkwan brought him closer again, and closed his eyes again.

* * *

Seokmin was angry, angrier than he had been in recent history, and if anyone but Minghao had rounded their eyes at him and wordlessly ordered him to check out the noises outside, he would have told them to go fuck themselves. He hesitated even so, enough for the Ancient to round his eyes at him a second time, but left the speculating crowd around Seungkwan with a suppressed curse, leaving as quietly as he could. His steps were soft out in the corridor, but it wasn’t five feet before they sped up at the scent of raw meat and blood and vomit.

They carried him out and around the low building to the back, where Chan leant in a miserable heap against the wall, vomiting his guts out. The night concealed the colour from him, but he didn’t have to see the shade to know it for human blood, or to realise that a terrible thing had happened to their youngest vampire. It was so thick on him that it stank.

He rushed to his side, pushing past the hands that tried to stop him, and helped Chan scrub the worst of it off him, but it was a lost cause. When he got him inside it looked even worse; the poor kid was still crying hysterically, and had what looked like a pitted wound in one leg. He had him halfway up the hallway when Leonid came out and saw them. His old friend’s eye was already bruising, but he cursed as only a military man could, and redirected them into another, smaller room away from the main party.

“это пиздец,” Leonid muttered, and shrugged out of his greatcoat. “You bring actual boys to North. I hate you, crazy vampire fucker. I go get healing lady.”

“What? No!” Seokmin got out, surprised, but was greeted by the slam of the door. Barely a few moments later, as the nanny got ushered into the room with wide eyes, he didn’t know what to say, too flustered to function. “Uh…”

The woman gave him a single fulminating look before she moved to Chan’s side, not as shocked by the gore as Seokmin would have thought. Very calmly she reached out to touch his forehead, then cup her hand around the nape of Chan’s neck, muttering something soothing underneath her breath. Her fingertips moved, trailing over blood and clean skin alike, until she could close her eyes and count the pulse thrumming there.

“If your lordship will please go and get the young man’s bag?” she asked tightly. “He will feel better in clean clothes and with his teeth brushed.”

Seokmin wondered dimly again where Soonyoung had managed to whistle up _this_ nanny, but she was generally quiet and good with the babies and kind to all of them, so he shut his trap and nodded, leaving even as she leant in to undo Chan’s shirt at his neck.

* * *

Chan was cold, so cold inside. He had killed a man in the most brutal fashion possible and the guilt lay inside him like ice, warring with the fire that now pulsed at the core of his being. He was safe, he knew that much, but he was crying so hard that he couldn’t smell a single thing. He faintly heard a door open and shut, and knew a soothing calming touch to his neck and forehead; moments later the congestion in his chest and nose cleared up, and his eyes cleared enough to look at the woman. The nanny. Miss Blaire.

_Ella? No, Aella._

“Aella?” he managed to crack out; he could still feel emotion distantly but it was as if something shielded him from the worst brunt of it, and now all he could smell was the smell of geraniums and and something strange, not _quite_ human.

“Shh,” she said softly, touching him gently. “We don’t have much time. You’ll have to listen, and you’ll have to forget.” Her hands left his neck, where they had unbuttoned a button to help him, and reached to the wound on his leg. It jerked as she tore the leather aside with no difficulty whatsoever. “Your coming here has been foretold, Chan, a very long time ago. A very, _very_ long time ago. When the doorways into the hills died off, one of our greatest seers predicted that one day there will be a clan of vampires that would see the error of their ways and would settle down, become a household.”

Chan shivered and moaned as she plucked shards of wood out of the pitted wound, fingers savage in it. He hadn’t removed the stake neatly, and he paid for it now with every motion she made. “Not… not a nanny?”

Aella smiled grimly. “No, you silly boy. I am a nanny, I am just also something else. Hold still or you’re going to be lame forever. The last line of our people that could stand the dead air were left outside to stand as guardians just in case it happened, and of them my sister and I are all that’s left. Hold still! I _barely_ have enough magic left to do this.” Tossing the last easy splinter of wood aside, she slammed her palms together and a golden glow grew between them, which she centered over the pitted wound in his leg. “You’re heading into trouble. The White Witch is waiting for you like a spider, nursing over her old hates in her abominable house.”

Chan tried to scream at the pain of the healing as additional scraps of wood flew from his flesh, but nary a noise passed his lips.

“There’s going to be a cost to bringing the babies here into her fortress,” Aella continued, sweating as she concentrated. “And you’re going to let it be me.” She glanced up at him. “Do you hear me, Chan? You’re going to let it be me. That’s my payment for this. It has to happen! I am not going to risk my plans after so long just to lose my sister because she’s feeling noble!”

Nothing made sense through the pain and the silent screaming; Chan would have promised her _anything_ to stop the fury of the slicing fragments being pulled out of his thigh muscle, and so he nodded desperately.

The pain didn’t magically abate, but there came a moment when she sat away and his thigh looked like new; Chan felt like a wreck of himself when his thoughts finally caught up. “Wait, no…!” he got out, reaching a hand to her.

Aella clicked her tongue with irritation; she looked like a caricature of herself, sucked dry of power but still straight and a little imperialistic, just as Nanny Blaire had sometimes been. “Too late,” she muttered. “Your word was given to the Old Blood. You can’t… you can’t back out now. I _compel_ you, Lee Chan; even if your mind doesn’t remember the oaths your body will.” She shrunk before his eyes, became a young-looking woman with long hair dyed in a faded rainbow of shades, and ancient weary golden eyes glared at him before she managed to recover enough power for the illusion of Miss Blaire.

“How long?” Chan managed to grit out. “How… long?”

“Centuries,” she replied. “We spent centuries guiding and waiting for you lot.” She reached a hand out to touch his forehead on the mark she had left there earlier, and he fell back into the chair like a cut-string puppet.

Grimacing, knees cracking in truth, she leant in to kiss him on the forehead on that mark, taking the memories of the fight and struggle back to base away from him. Whatever else she had thought of him, Lee Chan had always been polite and nice the moments they had talked together, and she was making his manhood infinitely more difficult.

“Forget,” she whispered, feeling only the dregs of her power left in her now, just enough for the illusion. She tied it off, coaxed it to last, and breathed in slowly. The air tasted thick and dull and _dead_ without even the faintest trace of magic. She shivered suddenly in the cold air, and fancied she could hear the cackling of the hag in the woods that had given her the prophecy one night so long ago. She had foretold her death in a land of ice and snow and trees.

_Well, she wasn’t too far off, now was she,_ her mind noted snappishly. _Stop it. The vampire’s coming._

She barely had time to dash her tears away before Seokmin bustled in again, and she got up with bloody hands and a strict look to her face. “He’s not wounded,” she said to Seokmin, wiping her hands on a clean cloth he held out to her. “A few cuts, a few scrapes… his body is already taking care of things. I don’t think he’s going to remember a thing.”

“But…” Seokmin havered, looking at her with intent but shocked eyes. “I saw…”

Because Seokmin was _also_ kind, Aella managed a smile for him. “You must have seen wrong, your lordship. Look.” Stepping away, she managed not to stumble, and made a beeline for the door. “I have to go and look after the babies. Please help him dress, and please don’t confuse him with what you think happened.” She escaped before he could question her, pushing her body despite what had just happened.

_Spell-charged oak and sanctified four-leaf clover oil. How_ dare _she? It was taught to her as a gift, as a courting-gift! How dare she use it like this, for destruction instead of healing?! It was as good that our king did what he did!_

Outside, she barely reached five steps before she had to pause and pant for air. Deep inside her, the kernel that had made her immortal flickered and died out, turning her mortal for the first time in her life. She grimaced, pulling herself together with difficulty, and straightened her face as she put one foot in front of another. It was a struggle, but by the time she came to the doorway to the lounge, she walked easily again, or at least pretended to.

“…I’ve put some of the distilled water on the boil,” she announced softly to the cluster of men as she wandered into the room. “There will be safe drinking water for tea and coffee very soon.”

“Thank you, Nanny,” Jihoon answered, concentration on his adopted brother. “What did Seokmin want?”

Aella smiled her faintest, most starched smile. “Just showing me the kitchen room here, your Grace. We should be ready to leave after some nice hot porridge perhaps, if there’s time.” Wrapping her arms around Jimin and Iseul, she picked them up and away, then went back for Minseok and Eleanor, making a safe little nest for them. They looked up at her, but luckily could not say anything yet, and so did not tell anyone of the wrinkled-up old woman hiding beneath the illusion.

* * *

Seokmin had an infinity of questions as he wandered back into the lounge, but Chan was bright and irritated at his side, apparently without any recollection of what he had done or the wounds he had had. Leonid had given him the side-eye in the corridor on seeing that, but had quietly helped to get rid of the blood-stained clothing and pointed him in the direction to make tea before they joined the others again.

Everyone seemed raring to go, even Seungkwan, who had regained his feet, so he cleared his throat. “Leonid will take us personally to a shop where we can buy suitable clothes,” he said over handing out cups of warm, strong tea with a thick helping of condensed milk and whiskey in them. “Given the stories he managed to track down, I thought we’d start with the Pasvik Nature Reserve, which is on the border of Finland, and then track her down from there.”

“I have procured weapons for all of you,” Leonid muttered, giving Chan a last propelling shove into his dad’s one-armed hug. “We will fetch them outside of Murmansk, then I will arrange for decent cars and you can go from there.”

“You’re not coming with?” Jihoon asked, curiosity sharp.

Leonid shook his head. “I am still an officer here; for all that I may get and receive, I am not capable of leaving. But you no worry, the man you meet there is very wise, my granny recommended him. Very old storyteller, very old. I will send along complimentary bottle of something.”

From the one side, Seungkwan spluttered at the taste of the tea, but wrinkled his nose and took another sip, nose wrinkling with disgust at the taste. “Um, thank you for seeing what was wrong with me. I’m sure… I’m sure it’s lovely here in the summer.”

Leonid’s booming laugh sounded. “What summer there is, yes.” He paused, considering Seungkwan, before digging at his neck and dragging a medallion out. “I give you something, yes, for protection as well?” Moving slowly closer, he held out a piece of amber on his large palm, leather necklace drooping off his hands. “Here. It is amber from Palace, it will protect you, funny boy. Any Russian man give you trouble, you show them back.”

“If anyone else gives him any more trouble, I’ll take care of it,” Hansol stated through gritted teeth, obviously irritated, but he reached for the necklace, giving it to his lover. “But… thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Leonid said with a great deal of irony. “Drink tea, and we will be off. Come, old friend, we must go talk payment!” Clapping Seokmin on the back, he practically strong-armed him out of the room, grinning like a man on a mission. The façade held all the way to the corridor, where his hand dropped and his expression straightened.

They marched in silence to his warm office and he threw his cap at the table, then settled into the huge, creaking leather chair. “Seokmin,” he said, unwontedly seriously, and reaching for a drawer to pull out a bottle of clear, transparent liquor. “You pulled my fat out of very strange fire, and if not for you and… power I do not walk as well today as I do. I have said that you are welcome to call on me any time, but this is big, especially when it can turn a man under my command against me without even knowing. The people in there, they think you hunt Baba Yaga, as if she were real. The young man… he is healed and he looked like gutted pig!” He dribbled a portion of the liquor into two glasses, passing one across the table. “What is going on?”

Seokmin considered him before he slouched back and sighed, saluting him with the glass. “I am sorry for the punch, again. I thought you had betrayed me as well. It’s just… you understand that I am different?”

Leonid rolled his eyes. “I see you twenty years ago, I see you now, no difference except handsome fiancé and lots of money. Not a hair different. Me? I start seeing grey every morning I look in mirror, and I grunt when I cut toenails. Tell me real story why you come to North and say ‘Leonid, I need all the weapons, I am calling in my favour.’”

“Baba Yaga is real,” Seokmin said bluntly, and shook his head when Leonid made to argue. “No, listen. The myth started somewhere, and that _somewhere_ is very much still real today, and we need to get to her and get some help from her, because we’re being hunted. Our… our race, you might call us.”

He leant closer to take hold of the bottle and pour another glug into his glass. “We think things have gotten twisted somewhere, that the myth was made to drive the people away from this woman. Minghao- _hyung_ – the very slim-looking one? He calls her the White Witch, and says that she might be able to teach us things we had forgotten. And it seems we’re on the right path, because we’re barely here and someone is already trying to kill the most vulnerable amongst us, excepting the babies.”

Giving him a long look, Leonid took the bottle back and glugged straight from it. “Baba Yaga is evil,” he said flatly. “Even if such a person still existed, which I doubt, she is evil, my friend. Many people say that. Many, _many_. My grandmother, she is very wise, and _she_ says it.” He paused thoughtfully. “In fact, she would not even say it, she spat to the side and crossed herself. But ok, I still don’t think anyone that old living.”

“How old do you think I am?” Seokmin asked curiously, tempted to steal the bottle back. It had been a hell of a day.

Leonid gave him a very frank appraisal. “Maybe… fifty? Too good-looking for sixty and for fiancé like that.”

“Leonid,” Seokmin sighed. “I’m over eight hundred years old. You might joke about it, but I really am a vampire. Why else do you think my blood helped you heal? I don’t have fangs for no good reason. I didn’t have them grafted on, I… listen. I’m not here for exposition and story-telling. My need is real, and the money I wired to your accounts real as well. All I ask is that you get us what you promised us, and that you keep the jet safe until it’s time to leave. And if we get trapped and die… well, then you’re a Gulfstream richer on top of everything else.”

Leonid snorted and muttered something filthy, taking a huge swig of vodka. “As if I want Gulfstream above friend, you fucker. What is up with babies and boys in any case? You really running?”

Seokmin’s jaw worked. “We’re desperate,” he said flatly. “There was no one we could safely leave them with. The others are off in Paris trying to fight a holding action whilst we learn what we may here. If we go to ground now, we’ll have to do so again in ten years. In five. We can’t live like that. I can’t live like that, and we can’t raise children like that. In all my years of wandering I’ve only ever found one place that felt like safety. I don’t want to lose him.”

Scrubbing at his eyes, Leonid took another swig. “This is fairy tale,” he said roughly. “But I stand by your side. We pick up clothes and gun and cars, you go. I will do from where what I may. And that young man…” He grimaced. “He look like wild boy, and then he remember nothing.”

“I don’t know how that happened as well,” Seokmin said. “There’s something going on with that woman, but she’s been with the family for some time now, and she’s never made a move against the babies. She could have harmed them so many times over, but…” He scrubbed at his face as well. “I don’t know, Leonid. My gut tells me to trust her, but my head tells me not to. No one I know can perform a miracle like that and make me doubt my own eyes. I know what I saw. If what happened really did happen, I’m … sorry for the man that died.”

Leonid grimaced. “No sorrow needed for betrayer,” he said blandly. “I perform little check tomorrow, see what can be found. If Mother Russia is kind, wolves eat him before polar night spits his skeleton out. No one care if he unwisely went walking in forest at midnight.”

“Why did you give Seungkwanie your necklace?” Seokmin asked curiously. “I saw your face, it obviously means something to you.”

“When I touch him, it is like shivers up arms?” Leonid questions, wiggling a hand to and fro. “I feel it before, from grandmother. She gave it to me, said it would protect me. Now it will protect him. The boy is important if someone went straight for him, though poison was really not the easiest choice. A woman’s weapon, that one, and a degrading death. Better I lure him outside, kill him quietly and run away. Much less spectacle, yes?”

“It’s true,” Seokmin mumbled into another sip of vodka. “Unless he got flustered.”

“Bah!” Leonid muttered. “Enough. Tell me of this Joshua of yours. An American, my friend? Odd tastes.”

Seokmin boggled. “Have you _seen_ him?” he asked defensively. “And he’s sarcastic, and funny, and really good at arranging things, and… and…”

“I apologise,” Leonid said smoothly. “I thought I was talking to Seokmin, old vampire friend, not Seokmin, teenaged boy.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I can see the man is handsome. I am straight, not blind. Are you going to bite him, make him like you? Like… like Vlad the Impaler? Dracula?”

“Dracula wasn’t real,” Seokmin muttered, ignoring his embarrassment. “He was a story made up by a bored nun in a convent in the mountains to frighten the initiates, using bits of old lore she heard. Bram Stoker heard about the story and wrote his own version. I can’t make him like me, but I can give him a long life with me. You’re still with Lada and the kids, right? You’ll tell me if you ever want to get out of this wretched place and give them a calmer life?”

Leonid’s smile was thin, but real. “I will. Maybe once this is all over, we come and visit permanently and you tell me how you really came to be in Ukraine on that day, yes? Come, let us have last drink and then get show on the road, like American fiancé would say.”

* * *

Jihoon, caught somewhere between angry and worried, stepped outside as the satellite phone he had on him rang. “You lied to me,” he said as he picked it up, careful with the thick, finicky aerial on it.

“I didn’t lie,” Soonyoung answered tiredly. “I omitted. And before we start arguing whether that’s a lie or an omission or whatever, I’m safe. I’m in the suite. Jerome was asking after you, but I had to tell him that you’d not be joining me for this trip. Seungcheol and Sebastian are downstairs with Mingyu and Wonwoo for a swim. I escaped to phone. How are things over there?”

Jihoon huddled in his coat as he turned and leant against the wall in the dingy building, thinking fondly of the old, old butler assigned to their permanent suite in the Savoy. “Do you think he’s had enough of London and he wants to come and house-sit in Lancashire?” he asked rhetorically. “I’ll take him in a snap if we can get him.”

“I tried.” The sound of Soonyoung thudding back onto the bed came. “No deal. He said to ask in another ten years. He’s too busy sorting out the new staff right now. Why do you feel so worried?”

Jihoon took a deep breath. “Someone tried to poison Seungkwanie,” he said. “They got away, but Hansol managed to save him with some blood. We don’t know whether it was aimed at him, or at someone else and he just accidentally took the wrong mug.” He grimaced at the sudden silence on the other side. “You can’t come here, so don’t even suggest it,” he said. “The babies are safe, both pairs. He’s safe now too. The place is dreadful though, it’s the coldest place I’ve ever been and it’s ugly. Seokmin’s Russian friend is kind of alright, but … yeah. Some kind of army officer, I think.”

Soonyoung’s sigh came through very clear. “Are you sure? It won’t take long to get there, find her and shake some magic out of her,” he mumbled. “And you lot will be safer too. Seungcheol’s worried too – he said that Jeonghan was uneasy, and he said that Chan’s strange too?”

“Lunatic,” Jihoon accused fondly. “We’re all fine. They can phone a bit later, we’re all going to go shopping soon. We’re just naturally worried.” He blinked. “Chan? No, Channie’s fine. Nothing’s happened to him. We’re all fine now.”

“How’s our two?”

“They’re fine,” Jihoon muttered, looking up and down the corridor. A tiny splatter near one corner attracted him, and he wandered closer to scuff at it as he thought. It dragged under his boot - _red? blood?_ – before he turned away with a grimace. “You should see this place. I don’t know if I’m even allowed to take pictures, but it’s like the 1950s died on the walls and they forgot to scrape the dust off everything else. The skull and crossbones is everywhere.”

“Hoonie,” Soonyoung laughed, sounding a little livelier. “The hammer and sickle. For our next holiday, let’s go to Malta? It’s lovely and sunny, and as long as we have someone to watch over the kids, I’ll go and introduce you to the Knights. Horrid history like always, but I get along fairly well with the current Prince’s successor. The sea is like an oil painting at times, and the sunsets are to be seen to be believed.”

Jihoon fell silent as his husband waxed poetic about Malta. People rarely saw this side of him, the soft but serious man that saw life as art rather than a grave inconvenience. It was the man he had fallen in love with all those years ago throughout that interminable rainstorm that had deluged the Lake District for weeks. Now, as he had then, he closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars that he had been there on the moor to be found by Soonyoung, and for all the joyful days that they had had so far.

“…Hoonie?” came as he saw Jeonghan peek out of the room and motion him closer. “Are you still there?”

Jihoon bit his lip and suppressed the desire to be back at Soonyoung’s side. He had to do this for his kids, for Jeonghanie- _hyung’s_ kids, and for a chance at Malta, not to mention a life. “I love you,” he said softly. “I was just thinking. I have to go, it looks like we’re getting ready to move out. Be careful, alright? We’ll be with you again as soon as we figure something out. I’ll keep this phone as charged as I can.”

“Kiss the babies for me,” Soonyoung instructed. “And I love you too. Goodbye, Hoonie. Speak to you tomorrow.”

Jihoon terminated the connection and shoved the phone into his pocket again, and hoped savagely that it wouldn’t be too many days, or weeks, or _whatever._ The gravitas of ‘if’ rested heavily on his shoulders, and he thought of the weapons beneath his jacket, not to mention those Leonid had been able to procure.

_You’re an adult now, Lee Jihoon, with people that depend on you. This is merely another step on that long backpacking tour. Gunsloe will be there again. You’ll see Soonyoung again. For now, you have responsibilities. It’s time to start meeting them._

He sucked in a cold breath and straightened his back, walking forward resolutely to meet his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Still not quite satisfied with Seungkwan's first, but oh well. 
>   * There is a vast difference in being taught to fight, and in how to deal with causing someone else's death. 
>   * Everyone is very, very... confused. That's one reason for the quick POV shifts. 
>   * So... everyone knew by now that the nanny was up to something, right? 
>   * Jihoon deals with how to grow up as well... at least a little. 
>   * Happy birthday to the best tiger! 
> 



	7. Carpe Diem

For as long as Chan could remember, his parents and older siblings had protected him. He had grown up through two World Wars and never doubted the love they had for him; he knew now he had been their solace when Sebastian argued bitterly with their father and Sophie left to pursue her studies in strange places. It had led to them babying him, and he had allowed it because he had been a kid, but those days were mist in the sun now. He was finally over a hundred, finally a man, and he felt happy about that. He could finally protect _them_.

He just wished it didn’t entail going back out into the cold dark: he might not feel the cold so much and he could see like a cat in the dark, but his years of lounging beneath the blankets as his parents read him stories had made him fond of it, and he could _really_ use a nap now.

He tried to fight off a yawn as they got back into the large van from earlier, helping to tuck the babies and the vulnerable members of their party in towards the middle. They were going off towards the shops to buy clothing or something, and he wasn’t sure why he was so tired. He managed to fight through though, making it all the way to the shop before bumping into someone hard.

“My apologies,” the man said to him in slightly accented English; he was taller than Chan but not by much, and dressed in one of the Army uniforms. “Please enter first.”

Chan blinked and shook his head. He couldn’t tell from the man’s features what nationality he was: something about his face said Asian influence, but he had light-coloured eyes like a westerner, a faded olive-green that contrasted markedly against neat black hair. “Thanks,” he muttered and stood aside to let the others enter first, making his way in second-last. “I’m sorry for bumping into you. I wasn’t paying attention.”

From the way the man grinned, all quickfire white teeth and a hint of merriness, he looked young. “We’re here to guard you, Mr. Lee, not the other way around.”

Chan brightened a tad. “Call me Chan. I didn’t know anyone else here could speak English!”

“Eli,” the man said with a dip of his head. “Leonid got in new people to guard you whilst you shop.” He broke off chatting to look around the brightly lit shop. “This way, please.”

Chan trailed behind Eli to the menswear section, though he could as well have followed the others. It was noisy enough that he hung around the edge first, watching some of the other officers with them translate between the sales lady and his family – Russian shoulders ran wide and strong, and it was a little bit of a struggle to outfit all of them, especially Jihoon- _hyung_ , who had to be satisfied with a pale blue set from the woman’s wear section. Idly, just making sure, he turned to watch for the babies, spotting Miss Blaire chatting to a very old-looking lady over at the counter. They were playing with the babies, coaxing laughter out of them.

_Good_ , Chan thought. _Good._

Seungkwan called for his attention moments later and he trotted to help persuade Hansol into a set of clothes as well; when he returned Eli was still patiently waiting, albeit with a load of thick winter wear in his arms. “You don’t have to wait on me,” Chan mumbled, embarrassed. “I don’t really feel the cold as much, I’ll be fine in what I have.”

Eli held the clothes out to him. “It would look strange if you are the only one not dressed as they are,” he said softly, cautiously. “One military greatcoat in a party of tourists… and the thermal underwear pieces help. Please try them on.”

Still embarrassed, Chan looked around – his family weren’t paying attention to them in the slightest – and scooted to the changing room, plucking the curtain fastidiously closed before undressing.

He spent a moment looking at himself, trying to be objective about what he saw. He wasn’t the tallest, but in the last year he had packed on muscle: his stomach was flat and sleek and hinted at abs, his thighs were hard from all the dancing he and Seungkwanie had done, and his back was strong too. His knees still looked a bit knobbly, but he had finally developed the dents next to his hips that his brother had too and… and…

It felt _weird_ but he risked a look down at his limp dick, cautiously pleased – a little thinner than what Sebastian packed, but longer too, and his brother had hinted at blood performing miracles… anyway. Pulling his underwear on again, he slipped the tight thermal leggings on, then the insulated pants. Moments later, as the curtain got yanked away, he counted his lucky stars that he had gotten that far. There was another old Russian lady there, saying something insistent, and he gave a half-shriek as he fell back into the safety of the back of the changing room, trying to cover his chest.

Eli was there in the next moment, taking the curtain from the old woman and pulling it shut; he heard what sounded like an argument in Russian (but then the whole language sounded like that). Clenching his teeth, he dressed as quickly as he could, pulling on layer after layer, and tried not to die from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” Eli said from outside. “She thought you were having trouble. If it helps, she’s old enough to be your great-grandmother.”

Chan gritted his teeth harder. He didn’t need to see the guard’s face to know that he was finding it funny – his voice more than told him. “Thanks,” he muttered, and reached for the curtain, hoping against hope that he wasn’t blushing too much. “I’m done.”

He walked past his guard, thankful that his ears were covered by a thick beanie, and moseyed to go and hang off Jihoon- _hyung_ , who looked similarly disgruntled by the whole situation.

An hour later, he felt almost nostalgic about the old military van as they slipped into a much sleeker-looking, modern van. It really was huge, sitting on the road like a fat toad with spiked wheels, and the whole family fit even if it was with a bit of a tight squeeze. The suspension must have been miraculous; he had had to clamber over crates of what looked like supplies and weapons as he got into it, and he ended up with a tiny space against one window, which fogged the moment he breathed on it.

He looked for the man that had helped him, but couldn’t find him through the foggy stretch; all he saw was what looked like a second vehicle pull up behind them and people entering it. “ _Hyung_ ,” he called to Seokmin in the front. “ _Hyung_ , is that a supply vehicle at our back?”

“Yes,” Seokmin called back. “As apology, Leonid gave us extra things and an escort until we hit the national park; they’ll smooth our way if we ever accidentally cross over the Finnish border.”

“Oh.”

Chan looked around – Minghao- _hyung_ looked _pissed_ at being squished into the middle with Jihoon- _hyung_ and the babies – and he sighed with envy as Seungkwan turned sideways, managing to drape-slouch against Hansol for a more comfortable seat. He blinked as he spotted a pair of greenish eyes watching him in the rear-view mirror, but it wasn’t the man; instead, Aella smiled tiredly and nodded to him before she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

“All aboard?” Seokmin- _hyung_ asked, and nodded as he leant to start the van.

“He can drive?” he heard his dad ask Jisoo- _hyung_ , who quivered with suppressed laughter.

“Too late to find out now,” Jisoo- _hyung_ said prosaically. “We’re off anyway.”

Chan grimaced and turned to look at the view outside instead, unaccountably missing the other part of his family.

It was at least an hour later, right when he had His Highness Minseok on his lap to bounce him that a shiver of premonition made him tighten his arms around his kid brother – not because he was afraid, but because he overheard Hansol speak dreaded words to Seungkwan. ‘Ask him, Boo, they met long before I got delivered by the stork’ filtered from the back seat; Chan turned to open his mouth but was too late.

“Jeonghan- _hyung_ ,” Seungkwan called to the front, leaning a bit forward. “Jeonghan- _hyung_ , how did you meet Seungcheol- _hyung_? I think you started telling the story once, but we never got around to it?”

Chan looked at his dad’s shit-eating grin as he turned around and pressed his eyes shut.

“Well,” his dad said. “It all started after I, the most beautiful man in four days’ walk from the capital, ran away from home and went to go look for my fortune…”

_Shit,_ Chan thought. _Just kill me now._

* * *

Seungcheol looked wearily into the mirror the water in the basin formed, showing him the image of a man that might as well have been his father. Vampiric healing and longevity only counted for so much when not only the people but the lands were starving. The Khitans had been pillaging the country for years now, thrusting deep into Goryeo’s flanks; they had been defeated only a few months before by his old friend Kim Chwi-ryeo and himself, leading a Goryeo-Mongol alliance, and he _still_ wasn’t sure that had been the right choice, given the internal movements of the Hoard these days.

_Why did I choose to return to my fatherland? They’re no better here than in the West. Soonyoung was wise not to have come with, but I wish he did, at least then I’d have a true ally here at court. All these court functions sicken me when most of the people in the streets are starving._

He grimaced and pulled himself together, making sure that his robes were on straight; the servant assigned to him would scold if they were not, especially given they’re an order of magnitude simpler than anyone else around here walked around in. It still made him wrinkle his nose. He was used to silk-corded armour and boots, not the whisper-thin, delicately embroidered silk with its motif of prowling predators some deceased Imperial Princess’ Chinese family sent to their ‘poor family’. He ruthlessly ignored the thought of how many snails had to die for the lustrously deep purple and stuck his fan through his waist sash, tucking away his coin bag. Thievery was rife even in a relatively unimportant city like this one these days.

Hours later his thoughts of the court had not improved significantly. Gojong was a tough old bastard but bent his head to Seungcheol’s old family still, even if the mortal part of it no longer remembered him. They styled themselves Choe these days, a courtier had reminded him; he had barely had enough control not to snort. The strife and tension was so thick in the perfumed air that he fled after a while, making his way into the large gardens in which courtiers walked and laughed; it wasn’t much better but at least he could breathe freely.

“Ah… General Choi,” a voice said at his side. “What a splendid pleasure it is to see one of the only honest men at the court out and about. We do not deserve your presence.”

Seungcheol frowned as he turned, irritated and with no wish to be trapped in a conversation. “You have the advantage of me, sir,” he said to the middle-aged man standing there in scholar’s robes. “I am not yet familiar with everyone here today.”

The man bent him a deep bow. “Park Jinjae at your service. I am a relative of the Prime Minister of the State.”

Seungcheol’s frown deepened a little before his expression faded out in the politeness he had learnt earlier in his life. He bowed in return. “My apologies then, I do not have a natural gift for faces. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Park Jinjae grinned at him. “I must admit, I have an ulterior motive. I’ve heard of your successes with General Kim Chwi-ryeo and have spoken to him – he noted that you are a great strategist and leader of men. I was wondering if we could speak about your tactics at the last engagement against the Khitan people. Some of the decisions there… I just can’t make them out in my head!”

_Is he one of the ones that applauded us? Or a naysayer? Regardless, he’s powerful if he’s that man’s family member, I should go along with it._

“Let us walk, and I’ll answer any questions you may have.”

An hour later, he was pleasantly surprised. Park Jinjae was definitely an excellent tactician as well, and spoke eruditely on the topic. He hadn’t even realised that time flowed until the man pulled up short with an “Ah, I have bent your ear long enough, General, you shouldn’t have indulged me so. Why, you haven’t even flirted with some of the beautiful maidens here today, you should start on your own dynasty!”

Blinking, Seungcheol pulled his thoughts to the present. “No time for beautiful maidens, and it would be unkind to subject them to my very untrained ways in any case, I would not make a good husband. I…”

He broke off as he looked up at the group of people close to them; two ladies and a man were chatting, and there was another man approaching that was so beautiful it felt as if his tongue stuck to his palate as his mouth dried. Dressed impeccably in the robes of a minor noble, the man’s long black hair hung like night-sheened silk to his hips, catching stars in its depths, and his movements were so precise, so graceful that he didn’t quite know what to do. He stared, spellbound, as the man approached the trio and greeted them happily; if his eyes weren’t so quick he wouldn’t have caught the very quick motion that netted the stranger a fat coin purse under the disguise of a quick fraternal hug.

“I see,” Park Jinjae said at his side, voice thick with laughter, “that I should introduce you to the sons of the court, not the daughters, General. Not a noble though, just a minor half-blood from the south somewhere. You can do better.”

_He just stole a purse like others breathed. I wonder why?_

Seungcheol looked towards his companion. “I was more distressed that the gods chose to bless people like that,” he said to cover his surprise. “My life would have been a great deal easier with a face like that. I would have been able to charm my teachers instead of getting the switch. He is truly the most beautiful creature I have seen.”

“My father had a strong arm for switching as well,” Park Jinjae sighed, rolling his eyes deeply. “Ah well. I really am sorry to desert you here like this, General, but I do have to talk to a few people still. Do you want me to introduce you before we leave?”

“Ah, no,” Seungcheol muttered, and waved his conversation partner off before he moved away, stepping into shadows. “If Soonyoung were here now, he’d be laughing so hard he’d kill himself.”

No matter how he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t anything but a distraction, he followed the minor lord for the rest of that night, watching him lift purses with great facility. The longer it went on, the more convinced he was that the young man was at least responsible for half the theft his servant had warned him about; what surprised him was how easily he seemed to do it, and how charming and graceful he was at the same time.

As the night waned and the party in their honour drew to a halt, he thought nothing of following the beautiful youth and his eyebrows arched when he lost him between one wing of the palace and the next; the young man that emerged in his place looked so different that it was only by his walk that he recognised him – his hair was braided back like a commoner now, and his outfit only good enough for a servant, not the extravagant silks of earlier. He still had that lilting sense of grace in his movements though – Seungcheol wasn’t sure whether that meant martial training or something else.

He followed him out over the bridge and off into the more common parts of the city, until at last he came to the Han river’s fat curves. It smelled disgusting, almost enough so to lose the youth in its olfactory bouquet, but Seungcheol kept at it, tracking him with the patience he had long since learnt. It grew easier when he shrugged most of the heavy robes off his shoulders; he ditched them entirely when they wound their way up into Bukhansan’s flanks.

The inn the youth entered was decrepit and disgusting, barely a collection of wood in the shape of a shanty. Seungcheol blinked at it, stepping aside as he watched people stream in and then out, looking significantly happier. He snagged a passing commoner and bribed him out of his outer robe for a few coins, pulling that on over the deep purple underrobe. The man’s scent was acrid and sour, making his nose wrinkle despite smelling just like any other labourer out there. Still, disguised as best he could, he wound his way into the inn and made to sit at a far corner, curious.

The youth held court like the toadies he had seen back in the noble district, but looked much happier about it: of the countless purses he had stolen, he took the coins and gave it to the old and the poor that came in to talk to him. Seungcheol watched him listen as well, always having a few kind words, and slowly realised what exactly was happening: he had stolen from the rich to give to the very poor, and that made something flutter in his heart. It was so _stupid_ , because he risked death, but he was also the first kind, brave person Seungcheol had seen in the city, and it touched him deeply.

_He’s as kind as he is tricksy and beautiful. What a strange man. I wonder…_

He withdrew the pouch of coins still resting against his heart under his robes and stood to wander closer, hoping the ill flickering of the candles here disguised him a little bit. He didn’t need to wait his turn. The people shied away from his shoulders even when he tried to slouch them, likely born with a sixth sense that something was off, and watched him like a hawk as he held out the pouch in his hand to the man with stars in his hair. “Excuse me,” he said as politely as he could. “You dropped this one on your way here.”

Up close the man was even more beautiful: his features were delicate and his face on the small side; he was saved from total feminine looks by a good jawline and prominent cheeks and adam’s apple, but it was a close thing. “Excuse me?” he said, voice different from the cultured fluting accent nobles pretended to and thick with satoori.

“You dropped this,” Seungcheol said again, and reached to put his coin purse in one beautiful hand. Nodding his head, he ignored the looks that got him and returned to his seat.

The procession of riches started again, somewhat halting, and Seungcheol took care not to watch too often, though it touched his heart a little more every moment.

At long last, with the ‘inn’ back to its rat-infested squalor, the young man came to sit at Seungcheol’s table, lounging on the bench like a cat looking for a sleeping spot. His eyes, gentle before as he doled out money, looked sharp now, gaze flickering over Seungcheol’s face with curiosity. “What’s one of the best-known Generals doing in a dingy pub on the flanks of Bukhansan?” he asked. “This is certainly not a place for a man of your history. Aren’t you supposed to be back at the Choe estate, making even more of a name for yourself?” His nose wrinkled.

Seungcheol settled one elbow on the table and relaxed, resting his chin in his hand. “I don’t know,” he said mildly. “The food might be better here.”

It startled a bark of laughter from the young man. “Might be, there’s more honesty here. Should I expect a hoard of soldiers to descend on us? If so, I’d appreciate advance warning.”

“Why?” Seungcheol continued mildly. “All I saw was a young lord sharing largesse with his retainers. You’re free to do what you want with your money.”

Something about the man’s expression shifted and he straightened. “I see.”

_I think you do. There’s no one that can do what you do and be stupid, after all._

Out loud Seungcheol shrugged his shoulders and sat back in the creaking chair. “I’m Seungcheol,” he said. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“I know who you are,” the man said slowly. “You’re one of the war heroes after all.”

“And do you have a name?”

“I might.”

“Are you willing to share it?”

“I might,” the man said at length. “If you’ll buy me some soup. As you said yourself, the food back there was horrible.”

Seungcheol hid his grin in the palm of his hand. “I can’t,” he muttered against his fingers. “Unfortunately, I was waylaid on my way here and a brilliant thief stole my wallet.”

The man’s eyes rounded with mock pity. “Oh no! How dreadful for you. Well, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to soup.”

“I was looking forward to your name,” Seungcheol said, pulling himself straight. “But I think time ran out. If we ever meet again, I’ll buy you some soup. Until then, goodnight young lord.” He bowed, more deeply than he should, and left in a better mood than he had been all day. He felt the stare against the back of his neck the whole way to the entrance, and grinned internally at the sight of his father’s advice working yet again.

_Bait your trap according to your prey, boy. Oftentimes you don’t need a huge haunch of meat, just the smell of it._

* * *

“Wah,” Seungkwan said appreciatively as Jeonghan paused for a moment. “I had no idea that you were Robin Hood, _hyung_ , stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.”

“The country was very poor those days just and almost gearing up for another war,” Jeonghan explained idly as he sucked on a packet of jelly. “If you lived in lean times you were fortunate. Many of us were appallingly poor. My parents had thirteen children, including me. I ran away to give them relief from feeding another mouth when they started discussing marriage, but I soon realised that things were the same across the whole country and worse in the cities – at least in the rural areas and farmlands you could still rustle up some food. The only other way to earn quick money was as a prostitute to some rich old lord or lady, and I had too much pride in me for that.” He sniffed indignantly. “Whatever Joshuji might think.”

Joshua rolled his eyes at that. “It was logical,” he said simply. “You were too pretty for your own good.”

“Still am,” Jeonghan shot back. “Don’t underestimate my pick-up skills.”

Chan looked green and queasy; his stomach was roiling at the blow-by-blow of his parents meeting. “Dad,” he muttered, covering Minseok’s ears with his hands. “ _Please_. I don’t need to hear this.” Seconds later, as his dad turned to grin at him, he quailed internally. _I should have shut up. I shouldn’t have said anything._

Jeonghan grinned like a shark. “Are you sure? I saw you looking at that military man, Channie – the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree does it? Daddy likes military men too!”

“Please,” Chan whispered. “Please never say that word again.”

Jeonghan and Jisoo’s raucous laughter filled the van; seconds later as Hansol whispered an explanation to Seungkwan the Jeju native laughed as well, though his ears were red.

“Just get on with the story,” Minghao muttered from his position snuggled into Chan’s side. “I’m curious.”

Seungcheol didn’t see the young man for a week after that – a very boring week filled with paperwork and toadies and parties, until he was sure the sight of another royal seal would make him scream with frustration. The Mongols were getting increasingly aggressive after their tenuous alliance to defeat the Khitan invasion a bit under two decades ago; he had warned Kim Chwi-ryeo that it wasn’t a good idea at the time to ally with them, but as his old friend had pointed out, they didn’t really have much of a choice back then.

He really didn’t want to be trapped by a Mongol invasion. Besides, it was getting dangerous to stay still so long; there were already people asking whether he was really the man that fought in the war, given how young he looked. Between that and General Park Seo trying to recruit him for the skirmishes against Ögedei Khan’s invasion in North Korea, it seemed like time to get out of Korea and stay out, for good. Perhaps if he was very, _very_ lucky he could get to the estates William had given him and moulder on comfortably in perpetuity.

Crushing the correspondence he was trying to pen in his fist, he stood up and crossed to the window, throwing it open to look at the moon, sighing. He had been looking at the moon for seven hundred years, and he wondered how many more years it would be before humanity calmed down enough not to wage war anymore. It didn’t seem to be anytime soon. With a flick of a wrist he tossed the crumpled letter into a warming brazier, watching it set alight before bracing his hands against the windowsill, too ill-humoured to even think of joining the party that sounded even now in the gardens. A waste of time and a waste of money, and it sickened him.

Behind him the sound of his door opening, likely his servant, and his shoulders tightened against his will. “Thank you,” he said, though he kept staring out the window. “I won’t be needing your help with dressing tonight, I’m staying in.”

“What a pity,” a half-familiar voice said easily. “If you don’t attend parties, then how are we to admire your peerless prowess? But admittedly it’s a good thing I bribed your servant to stay away tonight.”

Seungcheol blinked and turned to face the young man from the rat-infested inn, once again back in his splendour, with glittering robes and a mischievous look on his face. “Did you?” he asked, shoulders slumping a bit. “Well, you might as well sit down, and I’ll get us some tea.”

“Some of those little sweets they serve too,” the man asked as he wandered in to sit at the nearby table, spreading his robes neatly around him.

Seungcheol kept his mouth shut and went to search for a servant to ask for tea and little sweets. The poor woman clearly got a fright from him looming over her even when he tried not to – people were so _short_ in thin times. Instead, mumbling thanks, he took the tray she eventually conjured up, shut his doors and returned to the sight of the man examining his armour and sword. He said nothing, merely sat down and started pouring tea. The cup jostled a bit as he slid it over the table; in the room amidst the smell of incense and sword oil and Seungcheol himself the man stood out like a beacon – healthy somehow if terribly thin, with none of the disease-scent that clung to most these days.

“I’m sorry the presentation is lacking,” he said. “I’m not a courtier though, so you’ll have to drink cloudy tea.”

The man sat down across from him. “That’s alright,” he said just as simply. “At least I know this one isn’t drugged.” He paused. “I didn’t steal any of your stuff just now.”

Seungcheol gave him a mild look. “I know,” he said easily. “Whatever you’re here for, it’s not theft.”

The man grimaced. “My name is Jeonghan,” he said eventually, taking a sip of tea. “Yoon Jeonghan, of no particular family or clan. As to why I’m here…” He paused to dip a hand into his robes and dug out Seungcheol’s coin pouch. “I had too much use for the insides to return it to you full, but I did want to return it to you. I had an acquaintance of mine wash and mend it for you.”

Seungcheol blinked, feeling obscurely touched. “Thank you. Is that all that brings you here?”

Jeonghan arched an impeccable eyebrow at him. “Did you want me to return to flirt with you, General?” he teased. “Are the maidens of the court not doing it for you? Have you plucked so many flowers that you’re weary of all of them?”

Seungcheol pinched his eyes shut and willed his ears not to flush with embarrassment at the insinuation, but it was a near thing. “I’m not looking to get married right now,” he mumbled.

“I…” Jeonghan paused, carefree expression mutating into a frown. “You are a genuinely honourable person, aren’t you, General? You didn’t even send soldiers after me. Most people talk a good game, but I’ve rarely heard of someone that sticks to what they say, especially nobles.”

“Look,” Seungcheol muttered, and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I doubt I’m like most people you meet. You made some effort to track me down in my rooms though, so thank you for returning the purse to me. I appreciate it. Do you want more money? I’ll send you what I have before I go up north. I doubt I’ll come back from there anyway, so it’s as good that it’s being used for a good cause.”

Jeonghan’s lips thinned. “You’re going to go fight more?” he asked tightly. “That’s a waste of time. I might just be a peasant, but even I can tell you that between Choe U does something either disastrously stupid or disastrously noble. He’s got no middle in him. Besides, the Mongols have been itching for revenge since their envoy died in such, ah, suspicious circumstances, so they’re likely to come boiling down the northern provinces as quickly as their horses can carry them.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. “You’re curiously educated for a petty peasant thief,” he said idly.

“I’d trust fifteen peasants before I’d trust a noble,” Jeonghan snarked back. “And your precious nobles have been stealing from the peasantry all their lives; just because they were born august enough it seems they think they should be allowed to rule.”

“Oh? Do you think you’d be a better ruler?”

Jeonghan snorted. “No, I’d be a pretty piss-poor ruler. I’m not blind to my faults.” He tilted his head back, exposing a strong neck as he knocked back the rest of the tea.

Seungcheol, momentarily flustered, had a way too vivid fantasy of feeding from Jeonghan’s elegant neck; for a moment he wondered what noises the other would make against him. He’d make it good for him, he always did for those that consented to feed him, but the man was unique – would he have starry blood like the stars captured in his hair? Would he taste as clean as he smelled, without the habitual drugs the nobility tainted themselves with? Would he…

Fingers snapped underneath his nose and he jerked back, shocked out of his fantasy. “…what, sorry?”

Jeonghan shot him a long, straightforward look. “I asked when you were thinking of leaving.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol muttered. Then, “Were you thinking of coming to say goodbye?”

Jeonghan snorted and stood. “Of course not,” he said as he stood. “Why would I say goodbye to stupidity? It’d be good riddance instead. Thank you for the tea, try not to die.”

Seungcheol watched, eyes wide open, as he left as quietly as he came, sliding the door shut behind him. All that remained was the coin purse and an empty cup, that and a very thick cloud of irritation in the air.

* * *

“Thank you for the tea, try not to die?” Jisoo asked over Hansol’s laughter, reaching up to face-palm. “Honestly, Hannie, what were you thinking?”

Jeonghan examined his hands. “I was thinking that it was a waste, but that he was as bound by stupidity like everyone else. I was certainly not going to beg some beagle-eyed boy wonder to remain back and not get killed. At least so I thought then.”

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungkwan called. “I think Chan’s actually trying to die over here. Can you sort of… I don’t know… skip to where you met again? I want to see if he can turn any greener.”

“Kwan-ah,” Hansol murmured. “If he dies, who’s going to carry your suitcases if I’m already carrying you?”

Jeonghan gave a long, slow sigh. “That was in 1219,” he said. “We verbally sparred on and off for the two more years it took for the war to really get started. He shoved a ludicrous amount of money at me over those two years, enough so that I could get the group of people I tried to take care of to leave the city and get a small farm deep in the countryside where the Mongols hopefully wouldn’t find them. We fought all the time, really, but when I got word in 1231 that he was going north to help the siege of Kuju, I knew there was no way he was leaving me behind. I was nineteen and had nothing holding me back; even if I didn’t want to go to war, he had done so much that I was convinced he was the only decent man left in the world and I owed him assistance.”

“Sucker,” Jihoon called from his spot in the back. “Were you hot for his eyelashes even back then?”

“Look,” Jeonghan said. “If the peanut gallery doesn’t speak about my fascination with his long-ass eyelashes I won’t say anything about their fascination with slanty eyes. Now… where was I?”

* * *

Seungcheol felt every inch of his seven hundred years of life when he rode North in response to Park Seo’s summons. The messenger had barely gotten out of Kuju before the Mongols boiled over the Yalu river and started setting fire to things; he knew enough of siege warfare now to know that the city wouldn’t hold out long at all. Not for the first time he wished he had Soonyoung with him. It would have been a blessing to ride north with a friend, just so that he could discuss how truly weary he felt day after day.

He had promised himself that he’d see what he could do to Kuju before he left. His family was so long-dead by now that even their descendants didn’t recognise him, and truly there was nothing holding him back anymore. It wasn’t even of use wishing for a Korean Magna Carta; the Choe military regime had the country and the king by the short-and-curlies, and whatever else he was, Gojong would likely not sign his rights away like that.

The whole business made him sick.

He barely made it to the inn he had planned to that night, and set to bribing the stablehand to ensure his horse was still there in the morning before he went to go and collapse inside. The smell of food was enough to remind him how truly hungry he was; his jaw ached with the desire to drink, but he couldn’t see himself indulging here. Instead, he moodily called for soju and settled to his drink, trying fitfully to forget all the faces he likely wouldn’t see again.

Of all of them, only one was still fresh in his memory, and he shuddered away from their last dreadful argument months weeks before he had left. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Jeonghan, who had become a real friend under all his prickly notions.

He was deep in his cups with no hope of being truly drunk when a hand shoved at his shoulder and a very familiar voice spoke.

“Move up,” Jeonghan commanded. “I’m tired, I want to sit down.”

Seungcheol boggled at the chameleon of a man. Unlike the variety of looks he sported in a city, he looked like the peasant he was, with simple clothes and long hair tucked and clubbed up and out of the way. He _also_ looked extremely tired, eyes bloodshot. Very quietly, saying nothing, Seungcheol moved aside on the bench and allowed his nth cup of soju to be stolen before Jeonghan called to a server to order food.

He stayed silent throughout Jeonghan’s meal, right through another cup of soju before he finally got the sense of presence to pull himself together. “What are you doing here?” he asked harshly. “You should be down at that farm by now, keeping everyone else in line. I thought you said…”

“I’m able-bodied and I can fight,” Jeonghan said tightly. “Are you going to turn me away, General?”

Seungcheol snorted at that. “You loathe the war and cursed me out when I said I had to do my duty up here,” he pointed out. “In fact, I believe you told me to fuck off and never speak to you again.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed as he paused. “Whatever I might have said,” he enunciated metedly, “if you think that I’d let you go off alone to go and die you’re really stupider than I thought. The chances of you surviving are much higher with me around, I don’t _have_ to be unspeakably noble.”

Seungcheol stared and stared, feeling something bloom in his chest through his utter fatigue. He knew without a doubt that he was ten, maybe fifty times a normal man’s match, but there was something about seeing the desire for his preservation in Jeonghan’s eyes that made him want to give in, to accept his offer. Still, he was a vampire, and Jeonghan just a mortal, so...

“Don’t even think of saying no thanks,” Jeonghan warned. “I know that look in your eyes. I’m going to do this. You have the choice of me trailing along behind you or riding at your side. Either way I’ll get there, perhaps without your protection, and then you’re going to feel bad when I get wounded when you couldn’t protect me.”

Gut-punched, Seungcheol stared some more. “You truly are a horrendous person,” he said, awash with admiration. You’re just going to manipulate me with the way I would feel if you got hurt? That’s… that’s…”

Jeonghan’s smile stretched, turning his features fey and soft. “That’s practical realism for you. I get what I want, Seungcheol-ssi. You built up this debt I’m feeling, so don’t even try to back out now that I’m repaying you.”

That night Seungcheol pretended to sleep like a baby, just to lie awake and listen to Jeonghan’s breaths on the bed next to him, and wondered how long it had been since he felt cared about. Very quietly, speaking only in his thoughts, he made a vow to the gods of his forefathers to see Jeonghan protected if he could at all manage it. Once they were out of this crazy place, once the siege was broken, he could travel down to old Silla with him, make sure that he got to safety. Then, with that done, he could leave Korea with a clean heart.

Two weeks later, when they made it to Kusong province, they had already dodged five Mongol patrols, and both of them were tired and stinking to high heaven. He corralled the horses in a little copse of trees that had somehow miraculously evaded the burnings and reached to support Jeonghan to the ground. Holding his hands on him – they hadn’t had much time to stop for the luxury of a warm meal – he supported his tired slouch as much as he could and wished he dared to feed him blood.

“Why aren’t you tired?” Jeonghan asked, voice thick with fatigue. “I just want to lie down somewhere.”

Seungcheol risked a look out the trees to the countryside, cursed to see the cloud from the Mongol horde’s hooves on the horizon. “You can’t lie down here,” he murmured, moving an arm down to cinch around Jeonghan’s waist. “Just rest against me for a few moments, okay? I need to think about how we’re going to get past this next bit.”

Jeonghan slouched enough to rest against Seungcheol’s frame, forehead on his shoulder. “Okay,” he mumbled into Seungcheol’s throat.

Seungcheol cursed mentally as he felt Jeonghan’s forehead press so intimately against him; his friend felt way too hot, almost as if he was running a fever, but he could practically smell the desecration of these lands, none of the water sources were likely safe and there were too many diseases humans could get from fouled water. There had been an abandoned farmhouse earlier, hardly worth the main Horde’s attention, but their scouts and outliers were sure to comb it. If he could somehow bribe them into letting them pass…

Slowly his gaze fell to their horses and assessed them. The Mongols were fanatics about horses, being a nomadic culture; two horses would be worth much more to them than normal. Besides, somehow Jeonghan had stolen the second-best horse in the Minister’s stables; he knew because he had taken the best one, and they had ridden them carefully. Perhaps…

A plan flashed into his mind. “Hannie,” he said, too busy to realise that his private nickname for his friend had slipped out. “Hannie, wake up.” He pulled him away, shook him gently.

Jeonghan looked irritated when he roused from his doze. “What?” he asked blurrily. “Go away.”

Seungcheol almost smiled. “You’re not that lucky. How would you like to be my wife for the night?”

“No thanks,” Jeonghan mumbled. “Why?”

Seungcheol explained his plan quickly; he felt just a little invincible when Jeonghan changed it a bit. It cost them an hour of hard riding, but they got to the farmhouse quickly enough to hide his armour and weapons in the root cellar they found, and to get Jeonghan into some of the unlucky farm-wife’s ditched clothing. He had barely tied the last sash around Jeonghan’s new, truly prodigious stomach when they heard the hooves thud closer. Pushing out from the stables, he helped his hobbling ‘wife’ up and out, trying to mimic ‘apprehension’ as much as he could. “Good sirs…” he slurred in his best approximation of fright. “Good sirs, please don’t kill us…”

The leader, a thin man with tip-tilted eyes and a habitual rider’s bandy legs, pulled up short as Seungcheol addressed him. “Who are you?” he asked in a deep, guttural voice. “What are you doing here? I thought we cleared this area a week ago!”

“We’re trying to get back to our family in the north,” Seungcheol explained hastily. “We were visiting my wife’s parents in Kangwon now that we’ve been blessed… honey, show these men…”

For all the rest of his days, he wasn’t sure how Jeonghan blushed on command, but he managed it somehow, peeking out from behind Seungcheol. “Please don’t hurt us!” ‘she’ wailed as she sank into a deep bow. “Please, we’re just artists, we’re nothing to you!”

The leader made a disagreeable noise in the back of his throat. “Woman,” he said distantly. “Get up and stop grovelling, rape is forbidden in our country. I’d sooner marry you myself than rape you.”

The other raiders’ laughter was very coarse and loud over Jeonghan’s wails, and Seungcheol stepped between them again. “We have nothing,” he said again. “My wife is pregnant and you can have our money and our horses. Just let us go, please. We want no trouble with the Horde, we just want to get back to Chonma.”

“Stupid time to go on a family trip,” the leader said, spitting to one side. “You have horses? Let me see them.”

It was a very tense situation as Seungcheol helped Jeonghan up, still covering ‘her’ face and crying, and he led the raiders to the stable.

The leader blinked with disbelief. “You have horses like these and you’re artists?” he said doubtfully.

“A gift from my wife’s family,” Seungcheol said hastily. “They’re rich. I married very well.”

“A pretty wife and a rich family, I’d say you did. Where did you say you’re going? Chonma? How do I know you’re really two innocent travellers and not just some sell-sword escorting a princess? A pregnant princess could fetch a lot of money…”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to reply, but Jeonghan had apparently had enough of the situation. He barely had the chance to breathe in before he felt slim hands on his cheeks and Jeonghan’s lips were on his. It was weird and a little too hard and practically all he tasted was dust from their travels, but still it felt as if the top of his mind would blow off – it was the best kiss he had ever gotten, tongues twining lazily around each other until he could taste fake tears on his lips.

He felt poleaxed when it stopped, with the raiders’ snickers loud in his ear.

“He’s my husband,” Jeonghan said, voice oddly breathy. “And he’s a good man, and I’m not a princess of any sort. I’d sooner fuck a mule than be noble.”

The leader gave a great roar of laughter, and the others stamped their feet on the ground as they joined in. “You lucky bastard,” he said to Seungcheol. “A pretty wife, a rich family, _and_ she has fire to her? What absurd luck from the gods you have! Fuck a mule indeed – what a tongue she has on her! Just for that I’ll let you go… but I’ll still take the horses and your coin. The Yasak luckily forbids the stealing of wives, otherwise I would have made you my ninth wife, madam.”

Even as they rode away, Seungcheol still couldn’t quite form words. Somehow Jeonghan had not only gotten them past the line, but had compromised and haggled them down to one horse, and the raiders had even let them keep their rations. Their money was gone, which wasn’t a huge problem, and Jeonghan…

Jeonghan turned to face him, already stripping off the clothing he had borrowed, and gave him a penetrating look. “What?” he asked. “You were making a hash of it. I had to do something. It was just a kiss. Get over it.”

Seungcheol knew with absolute rock-solid certainty that he didn’t want to get over it. “You kept the situation from getting to a place where I had to kill to get past them,” he said softly. “That’s not just ‘something’. Where have you been all my life?”

“Probably in swaddling,” Jeonghan retorted. “You’re ancient.”

Seungcheol swallowed a sudden stab of laughter and surged forward to hug Jeonghan tightly. “You have no idea,” he muttered into Jeonghan’s neck before pulling back to smile down at him, hands carding through his star-touched hair. “I have no idea what I did to deserve your friendship, but for what it’s worth having your friendship is the best thing that’s happened to me in this benighted country. Even if you argue with me all the time.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Jeonghan asked softly, but suspiciously.

“Do you want to be my ninth wife too?” Seungcheol teased. “No, I’m not mad at you. I’m grateful. You saved me from doing something very bad back there.”

Jeonghan sniffed and stepped away. “As if I’d be the ninth _anything_ ,” he muttered, but had a suspiciously pleased look in his eyes. “You owe me food and a nap.”

* * *

Chan made little gagging noises as his dad described his first kiss from his father, making sure his hands were firmly over Minseok’s ears. Behind him, Seungkwan was practically leaning over the seat, arms around Minghao’s shoulders as he listened and giggled.

“Please,” Chan muttered. “Please. For the love of all the gods, Dad, please stop. I don’t want to listen to how you got feels. This love in a wartorn country thing is the kind of bullshit you see in movies.”

To his surprise his dad merely smiled at him, eyes squinching together. “It really is,” Jeonghan agreed. “Everyone thinks it’s romantic, but it’s dirty and terrible and I thought more than once I was going to die. But it’s a tale worth telling, I think.”

“That’s why you said that he was a decent man,” Jisoo murmured. “Because he really was.”

Jeonghan nodded. “He really was. He didn’t buy me the soup that I demanded, but even back then he was upright and honest and very fair. Oh, he’s a wonderful fighter and an implacable warrior, but that’s not why I fell for your father, Channie. I fell for him because in him I discovered that there was still something in the world that was good and brave. He made me want to be better. Do you understand that?”

Chan grimaced and looked out of the window at the forest they drove through. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, ok.” Despite his grimacing, his parents’ love still glowed like a warm fire in the space behind his heart. One day, if he was very lucky, he might meet someone like that too, though he didn’t count his luck too high there. Reyna, as nice as she was, didn’t attract him in the least – she was as much his sister as Sophie was, and looking at the thinning of vampire men as well, he’d have to learn how to love a mortal like Jihoon- _hyung_ , or like Seungkwanie.

“Tell us more, _hyung_ ,” Seungkwan wheedled. “When did you realise that you were in love with him?”

Jeonghan grinned at them. “Are you sure you want to know that?” he asked archly. “It involves sex.”

Abruptly, Chan felt nauseous again.

This time Jihoon, rousing from his nap, made the grumpy demand. “We’re on a fucking road trip that’s going to take at least a few hours. Just tell the story.”

“Fine, fine,” Jeonghan said. “We were in Kuju, and things had reached their worst point ever. By then I was so tired of the war…”

* * *

The city still smelled like burning human fat and corpses when the Siege of Kuju broke. Seungcheol, entering the small house he had commandeered, tried not to breathe in too deeply. In the last month the town had gone from a prosperous place to a gutted ruin. The whole north-western section had been utterly ruined, disease and decay ran rampant, and if he had his will he’d order the people to move and burn the whole town, corpses and all. As it was, if the retreating Horde left anything for them in the fields it would be a miracle.

He made his way to the bedroom to wash blood and guts off himself, staring over his shoulder at the small pallet against the wall and thanking his lucky stars that Jeonghan had survived. Some days it had been a touch-and-go matter, and he had once resorted to giving him blood in his food – not too much, just enough to bolster him a tiny bit, and had not acted on the arousal and heavy looks the next day. Indulging in the midst of a warzone wasn’t his idea of a romantic encounter; hell, even if Jeonghan had made the offer he had seen lurking in his eyes, he’d’ve been too worried about stressing his body out even more, he was that worried about his gauntness.

Luckily for him, Jeonghan hadn’t offered.

Pulling his armour off and promising his sword a good clean in a few moments, he stripped down to pants and singlet, going to hunker down next to the pallet. For a moment he admired Jeonghan’s beauty, the type that didn’t give up even when he had been half-starving for a month: the lines of his nose and jaw and cheeks were so clear now. Tempted, he reached to gently trail his fingertip down Jeonghan’s nose, trailing his fingers across his jaw for a moment before he pulled his hand away to shake him awake.

“Wake up,” he coaxed, reaching for the packet of food he had gotten from the last raider he had killed. “Wake up, Hannie, I have food for you.”

Jeonghan took some time to wake up, as always a little grouchy, but he struggled up straight as Seungcheol just smiled at him. “Is it time for my shift on the walls?” he asked tiredly. “Sorry, I just wanted a small nap…”

Seungcheol shook his head slowly. “I took it for you,” he murmured. “And there’s good news. The siege broke. If you look at the horizon, the Horde is riding away from Kuju. We made it through.” He held out the packet of food, unwrapping the leaves around it and baring the road snacks. “Eat.”

Jeonghan stared at the food held out to him. His hand hesitated when he reached for one of the small, hard balls, but bit into it when Seungcheol nodded. Moments later, as the flavour of the seed-honey mix exploded on his tongue, his eyes widened abruptly.

Seungcheol watched him eat, feeling particularly soft about the whole affair, and hoped his heart would survive when he left Korea and his very dear Jeonghan. The man deserved peace as much as anyone else did, he had fought so hard for the last few weeks in a war he didn’t even believe in. “Eat half,” he urged. “I’ll keep the other half safe for you for later, your stomach isn’t too used to it.” He permitted himself to reach and pet Jeonghan’s head gently, fingers flicking through his hair. It cost absolutely nothing to lie to him. “I already had mine, so don’t worry.”

Jeonghan said nothing but scooted closer, making space on the pallet so that they both could sit and he could lean against Seungcheol. For long moments he chewed, until he pushed the packet away and licked his lips for the last of the honey taste. “It’s really over?” he asked. “Really and truly?”

“Mhm,” Seungcheol muttered, letting Jeonghan’s head drape against his neck. “It’s really over. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. We’ll be free to leave tomorrow or the day after.”

“We ate our horse that first week,” Jeonghan muttered. “We’re not going to get far.”

“I’ll carry you on my back if I have to,” Seungcheol murmured. “I’m strong enough to do that.”

Jeonghan snorted weakly. “I know, you’re ridiculously strong.”

Seungcheol laughed outright at that. “If you want ridiculous strength, you should have met Soonyoung. I’m more than strong enough to carry you though, you’re like a feather.”

Jeonghan tried to smile past that, and only succeeded in looking melancholic. “It’s stupid,” he said. “I’ve been fantasizing as much about a bath as about food. Isn’t that ridiculous? I feel as if I’ve not been clean in ages though. All I really want is a nice bath. How stupid of me right? Spoiling water with all my dirt.” He paused. “Where are we going after this?”

Seungcheol stared at the wall opposite. “I’ll take you down to Busan and the farm there,” he said. “I’ll get you home, alright?”

Seconds later as Jeonghan’s body stiffened and pulled away from him, he blinked and looked down. “Hannie?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t call me that,” Jeonghan said with the beginnings of bitterness in his voice. “You don’t get to call me Hannie if you’re planning on ditching me and going off into the sunset. I thought I had proven my worth by now, that I’m a good friend, that I’m…” He shook his head. “You’ve been planning all along to just drop me there and leave? And then what? You leave Korea and I’m… I’m… what? Peasant farmer Yoon Jeonghan?”

Seungcheol swallowed tightly. It had been so long since he fought with Jeonghan it felt like re-learning his temper all over again. “I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said carefully. “That’s what you said, remember? When you wanted me to come to the farm with you and skip out on this?”

Jeonghan turned to glare at him. “That’s not what I said, and in any case, wouldn’t the situation be different now? May the Buddha be merciful, but you don’t even have a clue as to what I want, do you?”

“Beyond a bath?” Seungcheol asked dumbly, and knew it for a mistaken almost immediately. He didn’t lean out of the way of the punch; that bit of stupidity deserved it. “Sorry. Ouch. No, I have no idea. You know you’re much more intelligent than I am, just spell it out for me. And don’t punch me again, you’ll hurt your hand.”

“Fuck off,” Jeonghan muttered, scrambling to his feet. “Like I don’t know you have a jawline of stone.” He shook his hand. “Why am I here?” he asked.

“Uh… you said to repay your debt to me,” Seungcheol tried, standing as well.

“And who did I invite to live on the farm?” This time the question was angry, waspish in fact.

“Me?”

Jeonghan treated him to another glare. “Try and put two and two together, and not getting five,” he snapped.

Seungcheol felt an inch tall when it hit him. Jeonghan had gone with to help him, had invited him to the farm to try and keep him out of the war. Jeonghan had fought like a demon and withstood a siege at his side, the worst siege he had ever been in. For him. Choi Seungcheol. “Oh,” he said dumbly. “Oh. No. I… um, I didn’t think it was possible. There are problems with that, I’m really not up to your standard, and I have to leave for the Silk Road to get back to England, and…”

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan snapped, pulling him up short. “If you _dare_ utter the words ‘not good for you’ I must warn you that I’ll make your life a living hell, as tired as I am. What the hell kind of dark secret are you even hiding? Did you accidentally bang the queen? Do you juggle babies for a living? What? Just tell me straight out instead of waffling on like this. I’m really not in the mood for Choi management today.”

For a moment Seungcheol blinked, wondering what ‘Choi management’ even meant before he sank back down on the pallet. “You’ve said often enough that I’m not like other people. You were right, it’s just different than you imagined. Do you know what a vampire is?”

Jeonghan eyed him before he sat down gingerly. “I’ve heard the word before,” he muttered. “But I don’t know what it means. It was part of a Chinese fairy tale that one of the concubines at court related to her kid. Long life, some kind of possessed corpse always hopping around hungrily.”

Seungcheol wrinkled his nose. “I don’t hop,” he said. “And I’m not a corpse. But I’m not human either. You said it yourself the other day, that you didn’t know why I wasn’t slowing down without much food like you did? The truth is I was eating. Just… not what you could stomach. Not souls. Blood. There were plenty of raiders I could snack on. That’s why I’m so strong too. That’s why there was gossip about me not looking different as the years passed.”

Eyeing Jeonghan’s doubtful, patronising look, he sighed. “I honestly don’t have the courage for this chat,” he finally said. “What’s it going to take to convince you?”

“That you’re not a hopping corpse that feasts on blood?” Jeonghan said incredulously. “Some kind of proof at least! Has the siege turned your mind?”

Choi Seungcheol had his limits, and one of them pinged in his chest as a person he considered as close to him as Soonyoung demanded anything but his word of honour. “Fine,” he said metedly. “I’ll prove it tomorrow as we leave. You said you wanted a bath, right? Fine. Stay in and sleep some more. I’ll watch over you.”

“Not sure I…”

“Sleep,” Seungcheol said, voice laced with Command, and reached to catch Jeonghan as he bonelessly fell. As a method of winning arguments, he despised that one.

The next morning he wandered out with a very quiet Jeonghan at his side, making for a distant treeline. It took them time to get there, time he spent stewing, and when he finally reached the treeline he heaved a great sigh. “Are you ready?” he asked, fear settling like a stone in his tummy. “I said I’d show you what I meant.”

Jeonghan blinked at him. “What, you’re done being sulky already?” he muttered. “I had bets it would last until noon at least. I… hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

Seungcheol, stepping in, pulled Jeonghan up in his arms, curling him close protectively. “Close your eyes,” he ordered. “This might sting, and our destination is still a bit away.”

In the next moment, uncaring whether Jeonghan closed his eyes or not, he looked at the sky, set his directly and began to run. He ran as he seldomly did, pulling on his vampiric stamina and the blood still in his system. He ran and ran, never stopping, never falling from that blurred speed, as the sun crawled up into the zenith of the sky, until he came to a mountain as the sun started to sink. Easily slowing down, he cast his way to and fro up the sides, until he spotted the temple the woman had told him about. From there it only took him another few minutes to locate the secret hot spring, and he put a shuddering and shaking Jeonghan down right next to the steaming water.

“There,” he said. “Your bath.”

Jeonghan’s eyes were huge and he shivered, glancing between Seungcheol, the area they were in and the hot spring. No words escaped him, but he squeaked as Seungcheol reached for him, darting back out of reach.

“Now you’re afraid of me?” Seungcheol asked tiredly. “My word wasn’t good enough, so now that I proved it, you’re frightened?”

Jeonghan squeaked again. As cute as it sounded, it irritated Seungcheol even further. “Whatever,” he muttered, and turned to the bath to strip off. It only took him a few seconds to get down to his skin, and he marched into the hot spring with a hiss, aware of the stare pinned to his back. It took moments of doing nothing spectacular before Jeonghan finally relaxed enough to strip and join him in the hot spring. Seungcheol said nothing and concentrated on his nails instead, trying to get the crud beneath them clean.

“What just happened?”

Seungcheol looked sideways. “You wanted a bath, so I got you a bath. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Jeonghan forgot his fright enough to glare at him. “I meant how did you do that. How _can_ you do that?”

“I’m not human,” Seungcheol said slowly. “I told you the exact truth. My species doesn’t have a name, but the Chinese call us vampires because we suck blood like one of their myths. We’re stronger and faster, and a great deal more durable, but there are drawbacks. People tend not to like something that preys on humans, we don’t form relationships easily, and it’s a bigger pain in the neck than you can imagine, trying to hunt for food when everyone around you tastes of death.”

Jeonghan hiccupped a giggle. “I… sorry… a pain in the _neck_?”

“Literally, at times.”

That provoked laughter and the sensation of Jeonghan moving closer through the water to settle on the same rock as Seungcheol. “Why didn’t you tell me long ago?” he asked quietly. “I wouldn’t have told anyone, haven’t I proven my trustworthiness by now?”

Seungcheol sighed and gave up on his nails. “A million times over. I was never worried about secrecy, Hannie. I was worried about seeing fear and rejection in your face. We really don’t make friends easily, I’m speaking the truth, and we’ve been friends long enough that I couldn’t bear you looking at me like that.”

Silence descended. Then, quietly, “You think we’re friends?” Jeonghan’s laugh sounded somewhat incredulous. “Friends?”

Gritting his teeth, Seungcheol turned to look at him. “My apologies,” he said stiffly. “I won’t presume again.”

Jeonghan reached out to cuff him on the shoulder. “Idiot,” he said. “We’re friends, yes, but if you think I’ve been doing this just for friendship, you’re mad.”

Seungcheol frowned. “If not, what then? Some sense of owing me something?”

Jeonghan stared straight at him. “Wow,” he finally said, and moved to take Seungcheol’s one hand, twining their fingers together. “Seungcheol, I’ve been trying to prove my worth to you because I’ve been trying to court you. I’ve been interested in you since, oh, about five seconds after you walked out of the inn the first time. Honestly, I’ve kind of given up because I thought you were not interested; I didn’t know it’s because you didn’t even pick up on my hints.”

Seungcheol felt gobsmacked, as if his world shifted just a little on its axis. “…what?” he muttered. “But… but… you could have anyone? Is this because I fed you my blood? Damn it, I _knew_ I shouldn’t have. Look, it’s okay, this is just… it’ll go away.”

“Whatever you’re nattering on about right now,” Jeonghan said, “you’re doubtlessly wrong. I’ve liked you since you first stared at me beneath those unfair eyelashes of yours, and it’s not really significantly waned in the last few months.” He squeezed the hand in his grasp. “It’s okay if you’re not attracted to men, alright? I’m not saying this to force you into anything. Just to let you understand how truly, _truly_ wrong you were. I…”

Seungcheol turned to lunge, pressing Jeonghan between himself and the rocks as he finally, _finally_ acted on the desire that had quietly grown and been relegated to a corner of his heart. Cupping his head, he wound his fingers into Jeonghan’s hair and slanted his mouth against his, too hungry to give him much space and make it gentle. Gooseflesh crawled down his spine as Jeonghan moaned helplessly into his mouth; instead of sparing him he nestled a thigh between his and pulled him even closer, until there was no water between them.

The kiss lasted on and on and on; Seungcheol selfishly kissed him until Jeonghan was short of breath, until his head tilted back fully in surrender and he mewled needily as Seungcheol kissed down his throat, stifling his laughter against his adam’s apple.

“Damn,” Jeonghan muttered after a few moments, sounding dazed. “Damn, why didn’t you kiss me like that back on that farm?”

Seungcheol laughed again. “Because you didn’t give me warning,” he teased, pulling back to look his best friend, his other, perhaps even his future. “But you have to be sure, because I’m not going to let go once I start thinking about this.”

Jeonghan arched eyebrows at him. “Are you going to tie me up and feed me moon-cakes?” he asked, grinning. “Because I could go for that right now, and someone to scrub my back and hair until they’re clean.”

“I’ll scrub your everything,” Seungcheol promised, pressing another kiss against his lips. He wordlessly revelled in the fact that Jeonghan seemed, by some miracle, not put off by his nature. “Are you sure though? You have to be very sure.”

“Cheollie,” Jeonghan said wearily. “Do you want to argue about your unspeakable nature or do you want to scrub me down? I really don’t have enough energy for both. You want me to take me on your word? Then fine, do the same for me and I will.”

“I will,” Seungcheol whispered against his lips. “Forever after.”

* * *

“Awwwwwwww!” Seungkwan chorused. “I will… forever after!”

Chan gagged again, determinately keeping his eye on the road.

_Kill me now,_ he thought wearily.

Seconds later, when the van slowed, his head snapped up.

“Seokie,” Jisoo said curiously. “Why are we stopping?”

“Get the weapons,” his mate said, looking at the massive tree across the road. “I think it’s an ambush.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Sorry I missed a couple of birthdays, but this chapter is nearly double the normal size, I hope that makes up for it. It fought me like you wouldn't believe, so instead I went completely a different direction from what I had planned. 
>   * Here's a look at Jeongcheol origin story. 
>   * Seungcheol ran roughly 140km or 87 miles to get Jeonghan his bath. 
>   * Not betaed by anyone other than Word, and shoddily at that. Will fix later. 
> 



	8. Carpe Jugulem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * I didn't exactly want to post this on Jeonghan's birthday, since there's so much gore here, but I promised you a chapter. 
> 


Hansol stepped carefully out of the huge van, stretching out one hand to keep Seungkwan in his place on the back seat, ignoring the disappointed sulky face his boyfriend treated him to. “Stay safe,” he murmured as he closed the door in on him, moving around to the back to get weapons from the crate he had seen earlier. He felt odd with the pistol in his hand, but Seokmin- _hyung_ had been correct, something about the cool twilight air felt off somehow. _Other_.

“Hansol-ah,” Seokmin- _hyung_ called, beckoning him over. He slipped past the sides of the van, noting in the back of his mind that Chan had somehow gotten all the humans to stay inside – a minor miracle – and trotted to get to the huge log that had fallen across the road.

“Look here,” Seokmin- _hyung_ muttered as he hunkered down, pointing at the rough, splintery end of it. “It looks more as if it was torn off rather than chopped or cut in another way, and there’s a smell here I can’t place. I think…”

A scream came from the back of the convoy, one of the soldiers that had clambered out of the supply van. In the next moment the remaining soldiers sprayed a carpet of bullets around, firing wildly, but it was too late: from the woods came the horrible scream of something being eaten alive – from the feet up, Hansol thought grimly, given how long the screaming continued. Seconds later, a challenging roar snarled through the dim forest, ending in a cough-cough-cough that sounded eerily familiar.

“Stop firing!” Seokmin- _hyung_ roared. “You’re wasting ammo, stop!”

For a bare second it seemed to work; in the next something sailed at them from the thick forest around them and impacted against the main van, splattering wetly from one of the bullet-proof windows. Hansol, reacting solely on the screams, got there nearly as fast as Chan, who knelt next to it and picked up the object with shaking hands.

The dead soldier’s torn-off head lolled around in his hands, one eye dangling from its socket and the other smashed in with the force with which the head landed against the wind. Hansol glanced up, saw Chan’s white-white face and reached to hit the head out of his hands, making it roll into the undergrowth next to the road instead.

“What was that?” Jeonghan- _hyung_ asked as he lowered the window just a smidge. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” Hansol lied quickly. “Just a bird that accidentally hit the window. Roll up your window, _hyung_.”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue and rolled it up; Hansol caught Minghao- _hyung_ giving him a penetrating look and a tiny nod for the white lie. He ignored it for the moment, gripping Chan’s bloody hands. “Go and help Seokmin- _hyung_ with the tree. Quickly, the sooner it’s out of our way the better. Whatever is out here is _not_ friendly… Chan!” He pinched his friend’s hands painfully. “Get it together. Go!”

He didn’t spare time to see if Chan did so. His head whipped as he saw something running with tremendous speed out of the forest, heading into the soldiers again; speeding up without thought, he dropped his pistol and shot to meet it, stopping the blur just inside the treeline with an almighty grunt. With arms and legs around the thing, they rolled deeper and deeper, and his muscles strained with the force required to keep it with him. He jerked his head out of the way as something looking like a muzzle snapped at him, then brought it back with all the force he could muster, headbutting the thing savagely as they rolled into a tiny clearing.

The thing in his grasp tore free. Hansol used the momentum from his roll to get to his feet, arms spread out. For a moment his eyes didn’t want to function, but he reached deep inside himself to the heritage he had gotten from his dad, and slowly the shadowy gloom peeled back enough for him to truly see what he faced.

It was horrible, something like a wolf and a man mixed, but not in any sane way. Whoever had created the horror in front of him had done so without regard for aesthetics, just whatever would be a better predator. The legs were digitigrade like a wolf’s, and covered with the same rough fur, and there were four of them, with two clawed arms looking almost the same. Muscles pulled oddly underneath the shaggy coat it had, and very little of its face looked normal, beyond blue eyes that stared at him unblinkingly. For a moment he had the oddest feeling something looked at him through the thing’s eyes, given how the muzzle spread in a way that had nothing to do with hunger but a malicious kind of laugh instead.

It was so distantly removed from the packs that Hansol spent his time with that it might as well have been another species. Did it even understand speech?

“No,” Hansol said simply. “You may not have them.”

The thing smiled at him again and rocked to and fro, as if testing his reflexes. One moment, then two, before it lifted its head to howl again.

Hansol’s blood froze in his veins. He knew that call as well as he knew his parents. It was a pack-call, and if there were more of these things around…

_I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to, but the others, and if these things descend on the convoy…_

In the end it really wasn’t a decision at all. Hansol sank into the wolf that lived deep inside him and rushed, jerking his shoulder into the thing’s belly hard enough to cut the howl off into a grunt. His hands splayed out, hardy claws where his fingernails had been, and with a savage one-two swipe he clawed at the thing’s hamstrings, slashing them in a one-two. He paid for it with a bite on his shoulder, feeling a chunk of flesh torn out, and his shout of pain echoed with the thing’s whine.

They tumbled over and over in the small clearing; Hansol’s face was full of the thing’s blood as he bit at its neck, and blood-lust roared in his ears. He was so blind that he didn’t hear the soldiers come running closer or their swearing. He did feel the bullets slicing into him, tracing paths of fire through his body, and howled with pain as he fell back. The thing he had been fighting screamed with pain, the soldiers were screaming as well, and his world felt like fire as he tried to understand what they were shouting.

The thing’s howls cut off abruptly as bullets burst its head. It fell to the ground and Hansol scrambled back as he saw the soldiers focus on him, but in the next moment a man was standing between them, tall and shouting at them in Russian.

Hansol blinked slowly, trying to identify him. A military uniform, and he looked faintly haloed in what dim light there was, but he made them stop and step back, and came towards him as Hansol tried to pull himself straight on a bullet-chewed tree.

“Jesus,” the guy said in an ironically good English, hastening towards him. “Fuck. OK. Hold on. Just hold on. I’ll be right back.”

Hansol didn’t have the energy to care what the guy did. He struggled out of his thick jacket, ignoring the little voice in his head that bemoaned a new jacket’s loss, then his other clothes, ignoring the biting cold as he set to checking how many bullets remained in him. It reminded him of old stories of his father, not to mention quiet talks with Sophie; he panted to keep his focus, and had barely managed the first one when Seokmin whirled into being before him.

“Drink,” Seokmin- _hyung_ ordered, thrusting a blood pack at him. “And close your eyes, this is going to be messy.”

As long as Hansol lived, he never wanted to experience the next five minutes ever again in his life. The blood soothed it a bit, but the feeling of Seokmin- _hyung_ ’s fingers digging bullets out of him with speed and no subtlety… that was going to prey on him in his nightmares. Even when the last one came out and he urged his body to heal, he didn’t have words for the pain. Instead, he stumbled into the pants and shirt hands held out to him, ignored the thing that still lay there, and had to accept help to stumble back to the convoy.

When they got back there, it was just in time to see Chan kick the last of the log inside, somehow earning applause from the soldiers, applause that turned to sullen, frightened stares as they saw him. Hansol ignored them, got into the van with everyone else and promptly put his head down on Seungkwan’s shoulder, unwilling to talk. He breathed in deeply, trying to cleanse his nose with his mate’s scent, and leant deeper into him as he felt fingers tease through his hair. He fell asleep like that too, feeling twittering voices rush away from him as his belly churned.

_He’ll keep the nightmares away. Seungkwanie will make them go away._

* * *

It was perhaps five minutes down the road before Seungkwan found his voice. There was something deep in his throat that stung, and the more he thought about it, the more he suspected it might be rage, the kind of cool rage he had never felt in his life before. “ _Hyung_ ,” he eventually said, uncaring who answered. “Could you please pass me some wet wipes?”

He wasn’t sure who passed them – no one spoke – but he opened them to clean Hansolie as best he could, working carefully around his mouth and hands and hairline. There was simply too much blood for it to come off easily, but he did what he could with them, then a towel and a bottle of Evian, until his boyfriend’s skin wasn’t quite so sticky. He was especially careful around his fingernails – his fingertips seemed sensitive and sore and felt odd. Deep in his mind he ran over old memories of Hansol telling him how Mingyu- _hyung_ had once been cursed into the form of a wolf, and how he had inherited some of those powers, even though they weren’t his main power. He wasn’t even sure what Hansol’s main power was, his boyfriend had never told him and he hadn’t wanted to pry.

Right now, he regretted not prying.

He finally found the courage to talk. “What happened?” he asked.

“Bird my fucking ass,” Jihoon- _hyung_ muttered.

Seokmin made an odd clicking noise deep in his throat. “It was a skin-changer,” he said shortly. “But a fucked-up one. They’re not something I miss at all.” As the silence stretched, he grimaced but kept his eyes on the road. “They were already dying when I got my bearings in the world. They were created by magic. This one looked as if it had been slapped together out of two of them. He was fighting it and the soldiers over-reacted.”

There was a pressure growing right at the top of Seungkwan’s spine, a dreadful thing he hadn’t felt before.

“Those soldiers are turning out to be more trouble than they’re worth,” Jeonghan- _hyung_ opined.

“Well, not all of them,” Seokmin- _hyung_ muttered, throwing a quick glance backwards. “That one watching Chan, he made them stop firing and came to fetch me. Once I got the bullets out and the blood down him, things seemed better.”

Chan looked up from his grim contemplation of his hands, expression startled. “Eli?” he asked. “You can heal that quickly… from blood…?” He blinked, shaking his head a moment, before his expression cleared. “That was cool of him. We should thank him later.”

Minghao- _hyung_ gave him a sideways look, patently surprised by something before he turned in the seat to take a look at Hansol. His examination was quick, fingertips dancing over his face.

Seungkwan watched, relieved when Minghao- _hyung_ muttered a short word that buzzed against his ears and Hansol sank into deeper sleep, muscles relaxing. “Thank you, _hyung_ ,” he muttered, but suffered the same fate of fingertips against his skin moments later as his chin was lifted too. He stared back as Minghao- _hyung_ stared into his eyes, looking into them.

“You are sure you have no vampire in your lineage?” his oldest _hyung_ asked him quietly.

Seungkwan’s memory flashed back to a long conversation with Minghao and his _eomma_ , hours of going over their family book and its oldest, almost-crumbling pages. They had looked for any signs of supernatural lineage, trying to trace down why he got so high on vampire blood, after a single drop in his mother’s mouth from Sophie- _noona_ proved that she had the same quirk – all of his _noonadeul_ had as well, though his was the strongest. “Pretty sure,” he said reluctantly. “Remember? We looked and looked, and you didn’t recognise any of the names.”

Minghao- _hyung_ gave him a sad smile. “I once saw eyes like yours before, on my mother,” he muttered. “She was very old when she had me, one of the last survivors of Atlantis. You just remind me of her, that’s all.”

Seungkwan swallowed. “I don’t think our family goes back that far,” he muttered. “Could it be that there might have been some that changed their names? Or just flat out lied?”

Thin shoulders shrugged. “It’s possible,” Minghao- _hyung_ admitted wearily. “Honestly, by the time that your family likely came around, I was too busy trying to save Jun to figure out who was hiding where. Then, when the Killing Nights came, everything exploded. I’m honestly not even sure how many vampires there still are. No one bothered to do a census, we were all too worried about surviving. I… hold on.” Grimacing, he stretched to the side, hand on his stomach. “Heartburn.”

At that, Miss Blaire tilted her head back, manoeuvring until she knelt on the seat. Murmuring an apology, she reached to touch her hand to Minghao- _hyung_ ’s stomach as well, forehead riffled by a frown. Her eyes closed as if she was listening; for a moment Seungkwan saw an old, wrinkled hand before he blinked and it smoothed out. He shook his head, blinking his eyes again and leant forward to listen to their conversation.

“You’ve already formed a space for them?” she asked, business-like. “Near the normal location?”

_What?_ Seungkwan had had some triage training with Sophie, but there hadn’t been time for in-depth training, nor had he done very well in school with the subject. “There’s a normal place for this?” he blurted out, moving to resettle Hansol against his shoulder.

Miss Blaire looked up at that, cat-tilted green-blue eyes intent on him. She tilted her head, then nodded and reached for his hand. Something sparked between them, but Seungkwan ignored that, concentrating instead on the feel of the lean stomach beneath his hand. “It’s something you’ll learn later in your training, but if you feel here, you might be able to tell – it’s a space inside the abdominal cavity. It can happen even with women, it’s called an ectopic pregnancy. Right… here. Do you feel that?”

Seungkwan’s eyes opened wide as he concentrated. It was so small, but there _was_ something there, a hard something just below the diaphragm.

“It’s nothing,” Minghao insisted. “Really, just heartburn. I’ll just have a snack and we can continue.”

Jihoon- _hyung_ snorted from his spot on Hansol’s other side. “There’s a whole van full of idiots back there, take your pick.”

Miss Blaire gave a delicate eye-roll; Minghao giggled softly, shaking his head. “Just a bag, please. Seungkwanie, will you reach back there and get my pills as well, please?”

Nodding, Seungkwan leant to pass Hansol to Jihoon before he turned to reach into the back of the van, digging past the crate with the weapons into the bag he had packed. Rummaging around there, he startled for a moment when the amulet Leonid had given him slipped free. The amber twinkled for his attention, sparking brilliantly golden. He paused, confused, peering out the darkened back van window to search for the light source.

There was nothing. He had sort of gotten used to polar night, but there was _nothing_ ; instead of the second van and its headlights, what looked like grey fog surrounded them. He couldn’t see the trees, or even infrequent stars. Startled, he looked out at the side windows: forest. Out the back – nothing. The nothing slowly crept forward, stretching hungry fingers like fog.

“ _Hyungdeul_?” he got out faintly. “Um, where’s the car behind us?”

Seokmin’s gaze flicked to his in the rear-view mirror, then past him, before he shoved a foot on the brake with a thin press of his lips. “I didn’t even notice.”

Seungkwan, about to comment, shut up when Miss Blaire’s one hand clawed forward to settle on Seokmin’s shoulder. “Don’t stop,” she rasped. “Just drive. Faster, if you can.”

Seokmin blinked over his shoulders at her. “What?” he asked, still slowing down.

“Drive!” she shouted at him, voice so hard and full of punch that he reflexively obeyed: stepping on the accelerator, they shot forward so fast that the car’s tyres squealed and the box full of weapons thudded against the back. It ignited a crowd of questions from everyone in the van. Seungkwan, reflexively looking towards the back again, screamed as he saw something lunge out of the fog at them.

“Drive!” he screamed with. “Drive!”

Things flung themselves at the suddenly-accelerating van. It rocked as they latched onto the sides and clung there. Everything in the van turned to a madness of shouting; when Seungkwan looked Jihoon half-hung over the seat back next to him and hauled the crate open, dipping in so fast he only saw sleek metal. In two motions Jihoon- _hyung_ shouted ‘ears!’ and pressed on the electric windows just a little, jamming what looked like a sawed-off shotgun into the belly of one of the things that clung there.

The shotgun sounded like an explosion going off as Jihoon unloaded both barrels into the thing. It fell away with a shriek of pain and Jihoon hastily raised it again; seconds later Jeonghan did the same in the front but this time with twin Desert Eagles XIXs that Seungkwan hadn’t even noticed. It was so loud inside the van that he was glad the percussive force hadn’t shattered his eardrums; he had a scant second before Hansol leant to drag him down and cover his head to breathe and whine at the pain.

The van rocked as it squealed around a corner in the road. Seungkwan couldn’t see, but even above the racket in the car he heard a whump-whump-whump and the sound of Chan biting off a curse. Madness reigned as Hansol lunged as well; he sat up just in time to see them kick out the windows and flip up to the top of the van on each side. “What the fuck?” he screeched, flailing without a single idea of what to do. “What the fuck, hey…. holy shit, _hyung_ , watch out!” he screamed, pointing out the front where a thing that looked like a giant spider mixed with an orang-utan came running down the road towards them.

Seokmin cursed and yanked the van sideways, nearly rolling it; Seungkwan flew forward from the momentum halfway over the seat in front of him. He would have slid over totally if Minghao- _hyung_ didn’t yank him down and pin him in place; as it was he was face-down in a pile of screaming babies on Miss Blaire’s lap, with the amber pendant slapping him in the chin. He could scarcely see in the mayhem, but seconds later the van _did_ roll as it slid on a sudden patch of black ice, careening off the road into the embankment at the side.

Something happened, he wasn’t sure _what,_ but he woke up halfway out of the car with his forehead bleeding freely and the babies’ cries in his ears. The fog seemed to be all around them now, and when he lifted his aching head he couldn’t see a thing. He stumbled up to stand, weaving on his feet, and steadied himself against the van’s side. There were voices in the thick fog around him, familiar ones; when he heard Hansol shout his name his body jerked and he half-fell forward, moving to find him.

A hand lashed out from the foggy nothing and pulled him into a patch with screaming babies and a rainbow-haired young woman he had never seen before. “No!” she shouted at him in Miss Blaire’s voice. “No, this is how it gets you. The Hungry Fog preys on your deepest desires, and it’ll mimic whatever it has to in order to make you run into it.” She clutched his wrist with a strength he hadn’t thought she’d have, holding him close and pulling him into the protected pocket against the van behind her. The babies rested there, all four screaming their heads off; Jiminie waved his little red balaclava as if it were a battle-flag and to a one something on their foreheads shone, giving off dawn-coloured light that made the fog just a little brighter.

“…what?” he mumbled, staggering to a stop. “What’s going on, who are you? Why do you have the babies?” He reached down to try and pacify them; Eleanor stopped crying when he touched her cheeks. “Where are the others?”

She grimaces over her shoulder at him as he straightened. “I’m Aella,” she said very simply, but when he looked at her, confused, she clicked her tongue. “Ella? You call me Miss Blaire. I’m the nanny.”

It felt like a punch in Seungkwan’s belly; somehow this secret hurt more because she had been around the babies and could have hurt them badly, and… no. _No_!

His head snapped to the side as she looked up at him, then slapped him with all her might. “Calm down!” she snapped. “You panicking right now is not what we need. Calm _down_.”

The pain in his cheek as his teeth cut the inside woke Seungkwan up, shaking the grey foggy pain and panic from his head, and he blinked the trickle of blood out of his eyes as he inhaled with a terrified, gusty desperation. In the next second, the panic returned as he saw something prowl out of the fog towards them, looking exactly like some nightmarish fae wonder from Pan’s Labyrinth. It was as if something had taken a very tall human, given it wings and horns and no eyes, but with a mouth that sagged open and split, letting him see all the way down its throat. Which, the longer he stared at it… _yes_ , rows and rows of needle teeth. With every step it took on the ground frost spread, crackling until it sheathed everything around them. Even in the fog he could hear the sound of frozen trees exploding.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to hide under the bed like a child, but there was only a tiny girl between him and the monster, and the babies were there, and…

Seungkwan had never scraped the depths of his courage before, but in that frozen landscape in the murky polar night, he had to confront his terror and wrestle it down. No one would come to protect the babies, none of the vampires were around to protect him; in the end it was only him and this strange Aella and the feeling that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

He half-fell one step forward, too frozen to walk properly, then another; one hand reached shakily for the knife that Sebastian had given him. He half-remembered the man’s gentle eyes but implacable hands, despite the voices in the fog taunting them. Behind him the babies fell very quiet, as if they too knew the terror of the thing approaching them.

Inside his head, it felt like twisting, branching nothingness, a vortex of black so powerful it threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it aside, took one step and then another, and finally made it past Aella with the knife in his hand. “No,” he said in a thin, quivery voice. “You can’t have them.”

Aella said something behind him but he ignored her as the thing opened its mouth again to laugh at him in a hissing, crackly fashion. He watched as it reached up to splay its hands in front of its face: eyes blinked and fluttered in the palms, five rows of them, and they all opened and looked at him with some strange alien fascination.

“Little boy,” the monster in front of him hissed. “Little lost boy in the woods. You smell so warm, so wonderful… will you taste as wonderful?”

“I’m not your little boy,” Seungkwan stuttered out, faux-brave as terror ran rampant in his mind. “So if you would please leave I would appreciate it.” His forehead stung so much as blood dribbled out and over his eye: one eye said that there was a nightmare in front of him but the bloody eye suggested it was so much worse, a gaping vortex of hungry chittering things. “Please… please leave.”

Movement behind him: Aella moved to stand almost next to him, not quite away from him but closer.

“It’s not what you think it is,” she said tightly to him. “Whatever your eyes are seeing, they’re lying to you.”

“I think not,” the thing hissed back at that, fingers writing as the little eyes stared tightly at him. It gave a step closer, halted at Aella’s glare. “I think the little boy sees true… after all, why else would he be here with you, and not lost in my Fog and scattered?”

Seungkwan blinked against the insistent drip of blood. “Scattered?” he asked, squeaking through his fear. “What do you mean? Where are they? What have you done with them?”

Aella bit off another curse; he had never heard her so much as say one before, but now she ran through them like an automatic rifle. “The Hungry Fog is a thing of lies,” she said sternly, voice somehow a clarion. “All it can do is lie, whether that’s to your eyes or your ears or like it is now.”

“No, no, Princess,” it fluted sweetly at her. “As surely as your mother’s last babe was torn out of her belly, I can speak the truth as well. Can’t you see? Are _your_ eyes mortal now? Are you a little girl lost in the woods now?”

Somehow the temperature worsened, plunging to a sub-zero that cut and burned. Seungkwan tried to keep strong, but the knife was shaking, and one eye kept insisting that he wasn’t where he thought he was, and there was a hungry vortex and an old woman with him. “Princess?” he quavered. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t listen to it!” Aella shouted. “If you listen, you give it… shit!”

The thing laughed and lunged at them, limbs moving oddly. Seungkwan screamed and slashed with the knife, but all it got him was another set of curses and a hand slapping against his bleeding forehead. Light bloomed, painfully and immediately, and the thing screamed. He fell back, almost stepping on the babies, and stared and stared: Aella was standing in front of him, one blood-covered hand still outstretched, and it was shining like a spotlight into the gloom.

Seungkwan’s mind gave out completely and the knife clattered to the ground. “What the fuck?” he screamed. “What the fuck, who are you, what are you?”

Aella had to slap him again to get him to listen to her. “Listen to me!” she shouted. “Just calm the fuck down and listen to me! Seungkwan! Pull it fucking together!”

Seungkwan didn’t calm down, didn’t grow less frightened, but eventually the slaps got enough for him to claw a little measure of sanity back again. “Are you a vampire too?” he whispered.

She grimaced at him, green-blue eyes looking ancient. “No,” she finally said. “No, I’m not human, but what I am I can’t explain right now. The problem is I simply don’t have enough…”

Her voice cut off as the thing in the fog flung something at them; Seungkwan screamed as he saw Jihoon- _hyung_ ’s perfect face slipping down the side of the upturned van. Not his _hyung_ , just the face and enough of the skull to give it weight.

“Seungkwan!” Aella roared, clasping his face with her hands like blinkers. “Concentrate! It’s trying to stop us, okay? But I promise you, what you’re seeing isn’t normal, and you have to help me, alright? You have to help, I’m out of power so I can’t defend you, all I can do to help you get away and even that only maybe. Just stay firm okay? Stay firm and think of the babies and no matter what, don’t open your eyes. I need a little of your blood, alright? Just a little, so close your eyes and think of your family and loved ones, and let me protect you.”

He whimpered like a child in her grasp, eyes flowing with tears: he was crying so hard his nose ran too, and she grimaced and used one bloody sleeve to wipe ineffectually against it. “Close your eyes,” she soothed. “Trust me.”

Seungkwan closed his eyes and started praying: he thought of his family, Hansolie, Jihoon- _hyung_ , all the lovely things over the past few years. Through the sting as she touched his head wound, he thought of love and fellow feeling and the safety of Gunsloe. The voices called to him, mocked him, but he kept on, whimpering out little snippets of songs that made him happy. She touched his forehead again and again, and he did nothing to stop her, but then the music started, and he couldn’t keep his eyes closed anymore.

“No!” something screamed from a distance away, ringing in his head and heart as much as his ears. “No, Aella, don’t!”

His eyes flashed open and took in the scene in front of him in a snap: there was an archway filled with bloody light that hung in the air, with ravening things in the fog beyond it, and a woman that shone with the same light as the babies’ foreheads using his blood to sketch out the last of what looked like an intricate ritual. Through the music and the screams he heard trumpets and the running of horses, and for a moment he forgot to be afraid.

That moment cost him: the terrible thing in the fog latched on to his sudden belief and snarled as it reached for him to claw him apart, needle-sharp fingertips hungry and needle-sharp mouth open and slavering.

“No!” A scream and a thick, meaty sound as he blinked. When he opened his eyes again, Aella’s body twisted in the thing’s claws, small body torn into and stomach gutted. The light surrounding her turned into that same bloody, crepuscular glow as the doorway had. He watched, spellbound and horrified, as her one hand flailed out despite being torn apart by the thing, and she spat a last mouthful of blood onto the doorway before her body jerked and split, ripped asunder.

Pieces of her splattered all over, but iced over in a second: the atmosphere from the inside of the gate sunk with a great, anguished scream of pain. It flowered open and white shapes flowed through it, translucent women in long dresses that battered the thing and the fog back. Riders came through next, clad fantastically: the one in the front had a great curved horn and a rack of antlers on his head. The sound of the horn seemed to drive the fog back more, enough to have more and more riders stream through the gate.

His disbelieving screams joined the anguished one from afar: curling up, he twisted to cower over the babies and prayed, utterly convinced that they were all going to die. Around his neck, unseen by him, the shard of amber glowed like a sun, pulsing and shimmering, creating a golden dome around them. Beyond him, the Wild Hunt tore the thing in the fog asunder, trampling it beneath the hooves of their steeds, and their horns blew an angry dirge that rang and rang and rang as the translucent women wept over Aella’s fate.

* * *

Chan ran through the woods, trying to outpace the things chasing him. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened: one moment he was still balancing on the car with Hansol, batting leathery flying things off, and in the next fog exploded around him and he was suddenly in a new piece of the night-dark forest, being chased by things he wasn’t sure were quite real. It didn’t even hurt, running this fast or this far: somehow his body had adapted to it in seconds, save for a soft twinge in one thigh, and now he was just running, and he didn’t know whether up was down or left was right. Beyond that a faint, insistent hunger gnawed at him, but it was the least of his problems.

Behind him came an angry snarl that sounded halfway familiar: he had heard a voice like it before but he wasn’t sure what was going on, and that damn thing kept on chasing him, and he was so utterly lost it felt as if he could travel all the way to the North Pole without seeing others or getting out of this. He felt… he felt…

Chan blinked and stumbled to a stop as something in his pocket rang. It wasn’t his phone, that had remained in the van, and he hadn’t been able to figure out how to open the damn jacket’s pockets anyway, not whilst his dad told everyhow how fuckable he had thought his father was. Grimacing, he tried again, and finally discovered the knack for it, some kind of weird front-facing pocket that eventually yielded a concealed zip and a slim phone he hadn’t even noticed as he rang. “…hi?” he mumbled out as he answered it, utterly confused.

“Mr. Lee?” a voice asked from the other side, sounding worried despite being cool and mannered. “Mr. Lee, this is Eli… are you safe?”

Chan’s knees went wobbly with relief. “Eli? Holy fuck am I glad to hear from you! We were in an accident and things are weird… I actually have no idea where I am?”

Eli muttered something in Russian that definitely sounded like a curse.

“Did you just insult me?” Chan asked suspiciously. “Look, something’s chasing me here, I can’t stand still like this…”

“You’re in danger?” the man asked grimly. “Okay. Just keep running in the direction you have been, you’ve actually been running back towards us. We stopped when we couldn’t find you initially. Just stay safe, I’ll come and fetch you. Be safe.”

The click of the call ending had Chan looking at the phone, unsure whether he wanted to frown or just feel safe. It felt oddly warm in his heart that there was someone looking out for him, and if they could get him back to his family… shrugging, he stowed the phone and started running again, listening hard. Whatever was behind him was much less noisy now – he wasn’t even sure they were there, but kept on running just in case.

It felt like an eternity before the phone rang again. This time as he slowed down a tall figure loped towards him out of the forest and slowed closer to him: Eli could barely be seen in the night-black gear he must have had on beneath his greatcoat. He was still splashed with blood but eased up on seeing Chan, stowing his pistol before he stepped forward to give him a quick, thorough assessment: arms, legs, body, all got tested for a moment before he sighed and nodded, stepping back. “Good, you’re unhurt. What happened back there? One moment you were in front of us, and in the next the van was gone.”

Chan had another of those strange moments when Eli checked him. The touch had been business-like but he was so glad to see the other it had felt almost like a friend’s hands. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was on the roof of the van fighting against things and then there was this foggy moment and it spat me out in this forest,” he muttered, straightening. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what the fuck is going on there, or where I even am.”

Eli’s gaze turned a little softer, much merrier. “I bet you prefer the changing room now, and the old grandmother looking in on you.”

“Dude, _no_. Anyway, how’d you even find me? I must have come quite a distance.”

That had Eli looking a little shamefaced. “Tracer in your clothes,” he muttered. “Leonid warned me that some strange things might be happened, so I slipped it into the band of your thermal leggings. You were running in circles for a while there.”

“You chipped me?” Chan asked, aghast and amused and still worried. “The others, did you chip them as well? Can you tell where they are?”

Eli grimaced and lifted his hand, teetering it back and forth. “The vast majority, yes. The others are off collecting them. The only one that’s a problem is Boo Seungkwan. There’s nothing on his band but weird static, and all my men are flat-out refusing to go into the fog that’s still on the road. I just came to get you before I go and search for him.”

Chan stared up at him, noticing the little things he had missed before: Eli had slightly curly hair, if the wisps that had fallen out from the gelled-back look said anything, and there was a shadow near his neck that looked darker than the other shadows. For a moment it baffled him before his nose abruptly woke up and he sucked in a deep, deep breath. Whatever it was, it smelled like man and sweat and then something underneath that, deep and rich and so delicious his fangs ached to come out. It battered against his memories – he had smelled that before somewhere, but where? – and he couldn’t quite stop himself from reaching out.

Eli jerked but settled as Chan touched his throat gently, then persuaded the thick turtleneck to the side.

The shadow there glittered wetly in what little light there was, coating his fingertips. His hand trembled as he pulled it back, holding them under his nose to smell. “You’re bleeding,” he said very faintly, but his mind rushed with thoughts: his dad going on about how his father stared at his throat, the sudden hunger deep in his bones, the need to bite and suck and make Eli feel as good as the smell made him feel. It sizzled up his spine, that feeling, and something low in his belly tightened. Shuddering, he pulled his hand away from his nose, stomped down on the feeling.

“Are you alright?” Eli asked him, seemingly calm, but his voice betrayed him: there was a tremble to it, and a quickening of his slow heartbeat. “I got nicked by something earlier, running here must have opened it again. It’s shallow, don’t worry.”

Chan stared at him, wondering how to tell a stranger that he was like a symphony of smells and sounds: heartbeat and scent and youth and everything beating in perfect harmony. His fingertips remembered the soft skin felt for a moment under the blood. He wanted to feel it again, to lap at his neck and stop the waste…

“Mr. Lee?” Eli sounded worried now. “You’re spacing out.”

“…sorry. And I asked you to call me Chan,” Chan requested, voice low and husky; abruptly he understood a few things Sebastian had told him, and the fascination Hansol- _hyung_ had for Seungkwanie’s scent – if it was anything like this man’s blood smelled, anything at all…

_Shit, shit, shit, not now, this is precisely the wrong moment to wake up and have a hard-on,_ he savagely castigated himself. Grimacing, he gave a large step back; when he looked at Eli expecting to see fear and nervousness there, he was surprised to find none of it there. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m just… yeah, things are a little weird.” _Damn, of all the times for my hormones to kick in…_

“Chan,” Eli murmured, giving him a quirky smile. “A little weird is finding salt in your tea and not sugar; this whole situation is fucked-up. It’s okay. I… saw, back when I helped Mr. Chwe with the others. I have no idea about what’s going on, but it’s okay. I owe Leonid way too much to back out now. We’ll get out of this, alright?” He reached to clap Chan’s shoulder, slid his hand up to cup the nape of his neck, fingers squeezing in. “Right? We’ll beat this? You’re with me?”

The touch felt electric against his neck. “I… I…” Chan stuttered out, caught in the grip of acute arousal from somewhat rough, warm fingertips on his skin. He’d seen hundreds of other people do the same thing, thousands – hell, it was practically in the bro manual, any moment now there’d be more shoulder-clapping and…

His thoughts broke off as Eli lifted his head. His ears were acute enough to hear the buzzing speech in what had to be an in-ear. The fingertips stayed where they were, burning like coals just inside his hairline, before they abruptly disappeared and Eli grimaced before grinning. “What is it?” Chan asked anxiously. “Did they find them? What about Seungkwanie?”

“They found them,” Eli confirmed. “Well, most of them, the others found _them_ from what Ivan is telling me. Something about nearly getting his face ripped off by a lunatic with a piece of piano wire? And there’s another one yelling something about babies and wielding a sawed-off shotgun, and things are a little tense. They’re asking for advice.”

Relief washed through Chan. He opened his mouth to speak, but a relieved laugh came out first. “That’s my family for you,” he said. “Can we go to them? Please?”

Eli’s smile was very white and just a little sharp as he nodded. “We can… not that I’m not enjoying them tearing Ivan’s soul out. His English is very bad, you see. Farsi? Scandinavian languages? No problem. English? He folds like a little baby. Come on, here, hold my hand. If we can’t trust our eyes we might as well trust touch.”

Chan slipped his hand into Eli’s without a second thought, and followed him into the dark forest without a doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * The thing in the fog looked like an amalgam of [these](https://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/c_scale,f_auto,fl_progressive,pg_1,q_80,w_800/1424612102333924935.jpg) to Seungkwan, for a good reason. 
>   * The ghost ladies are [White Ladies](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Lady)
>   * For those curious, [Eli](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/37/e1/ba/37e1ba2c6446fce4f21a23a8bfb3e5dc.jpg). 
> 



	9. Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

_A few hours ago:_

Jun looked around quietly as he got off the Chunnel behind the others, feeling moody for the first time in a long while. His bones ached not only from the train journey but the lack of familiarity around him: no easy spaces to run in, the threat of war, no home, no _Minghao_. Even with his allies at his side he felt that pull, and it made him wonder whether Minghao and the babies also felt that spiritual ache.

Oddly he missed the youngsters too, especially now – the younger vampires would have gotten a kick out of seeing them grease their way through what passes for Customs. Sebastian was chatting with someone quietly at the gate and paperwork changed hands, after which the whole party were escorted out a side entrance.

“Deep breath,” Wonwoo said as he hung back to slip an arm comfortingly over Jun’s shoulders. “This is your first time in Paris, so it might be a bit of a shock.”

Jun didn’t have time to wonder what he meant. Between one step and the next they passed out of the station and beyond, and Paris hit him in the face. Millions of voices shrilled at him before his ears adapted, and he started sneezing from the lived-in stench of the air – London had smelled fouler, especially near the river, but this wasn’t much better, and he felt as if he wanted to claw the smell out of his nose. His eyes watered too, and he quickly covered them up with sunglasses.

Wonwoo, peering once at him, nodded and moved over to his mate, supporting him instead. Given Mingyu was where Hansol got his wolf side from, he pitied him.

They got into a large luxury Hummer and Sebastian slid in next to him, seemingly unbothered. “Here,” he said, and motioned for Jun to turn his head closer; seconds later he had not only washed his eyes clean with teardrops, but helped him fit a strange pair of earplugs that dimmed the noise down to bearable levels. “The first time I visited New York I wanted to claw my face off. You get used to it, but it’s a nasty few hours adapting for the old or those with heightened senses.”

Jun blinked watering eyes, tried to shake the feeling of being cold, and nodded. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Do you have connections everywhere?” He paused for a moment to blow his aching nose. “Are we going to a house or a hotel? Mingyu said something about owning a house here.”

Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Quite a few places, but that was Seokmin-hyung’s doing – he really does know everyone everywhere, and they all love him somehow. As to the other, we’re staying away from properties we might be known for. I’ve booked us into an AirBnB. It’s a villa in the fourteenth arrondissement. It’s close to the Eiffel Tower and the Catacombs.”

“…oh,” Jun said weakly. “That’s… nice?” The longer the car travelled, the more nauseous he felt, and travel sickness was vanishingly rare amongst vampires.

_Perhaps it’s because we’re driving on the right. My spatial perception is messed up. I…_

He blinked as Sebastian reached to poke his shoulder. “Sorry, what?”

“I said,” Sebastian reiterated, “that you look like you want to pass out. Is it really that bad?”

Jun shuddered. “It is, but I’ve been feeling sick since last night. Do they have aircon here?”

Sebastian pressed his lips together and reached to fiddle with controls over the roof.

Seconds later, as a blast of chilled, bland air-con air washed over his face, Jun closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Deep in his mind he reached for the nascent, not-quite-active link to his babies and wrapped his being around it, imagining them back in their little nest at home.

He didn’t pay attention to the length of the trip, but by the time they entered a spectacularly white villa he felt better, enough so to open his eyes and stare appreciatively around him. The pops of colour on the walls were bright but not garish, and the monochrome of the walls made it look larger than it really was. Shucking his stuff off, he stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Mingyu’s waist. The poor youngster was looking positively green beneath the summer tan. “Come on,” he whispered, supporting him over to a lounging chair in the corner.

Mingyu swallowed and went with, curling up against Jun only to press his nose into Jun’s sleeve to breathe there. “Stay?” he asked very quietly. “Just until Wonwoo gets here?”

Jun let him be, wrapping arms around him, as the rest pulled couches out of the immaculate arrangement into a ragged circle around them.

“I spoke to the UX,” Sebastian said as introduction. “After the last attack they’ve been watching out as much as they can, and there’s been some troubling activity down in the Catacombs. Signs of disturbed bones, and some desecration. There have also been signs of…” He broke off to check his phone for information. “Ah. Rituals, they say. The gendarmerie have not yet found them, but after the court case they’ve not been pushing against the UX too much.”

Soonyoung frowned. “The UX?” he questioned. “Are they some kind of underground movement?”

“Rituals?” Jun asked at the same time. "Have they taken pictures?”

Sebastian handed his phone over to Jun as he explained. “ _Les UX_ is literally an underground movement. It stands for Urban Experiment, and they focus on improving the hidden areas of Paris like the Catacombs and so on. They know the nooks and crannies of Paris better than anyone else. Secretive, but they’re good people. Seokmin- _hyung_ put me on to them, they arranged our trip into Paris.”

Jun, flicking through pictures on the phone with one hand, slowly started to frown. “There are traces here of rituals I remember,” he said. “Some look to have been adapted and some wiped out, but… there’s definitely been some magical activity there. You might want to tell them to stay away as much as they can.” He passed the phone to Seungcheol. “Do you recognise any of it?”

Seungcheol frowned as well. “The last time I came through here was before the Catacombs,” he explained. “But this map… if I remember correctly from those times, it’s almost a straight line from this entrance point through the Luxembourg gardens to the Pont Sant-Michel. It’s not my old haunts though… Wonwoo?”

“We’re sitting on a warren of connected mines and ossuaries,” Wonwoo said as he settled next to Mingyu’s other side. “The ground here is riddled with subterranean passages and old shafts, not to mention old royal escape routes and the like. It would have been child’s play to connect them underneath the river and be able to come out virtually anywhere this side of the river.”

“The Knights wouldn’t go just anywhere,” Soonyoung said from the side. “They’d pick sites important to them somehow – like the spot where they ambushed Jihoonie. We should look for churches or old monasteries or abbeys.”

Wonwoo snorted. “You can’t swing a stick in Paris without hitting a church,” he muttered. “But if I had to guess, it’ll be Notre-Dame-des-Champs. It’s been a holy site since the Romans. From there, it’s a short crossing to Jardin du Luxembourg and _that_ place has at least three entrances to the Underground that I know of.”

Sebastian nodded. “The UX made their maps available, but even so it’ll be slow going down there. Much of the area there is built in twists and turns, it looks like. We might have to split up if we want to cover the most ground.”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I’m not fond of splitting up, but if we’re forced to I want one of the super-sensitives in each group. Mingyu, will you…”

“I’ll be okay,” Mingyu croaked. “Just give me a few hours to acclimate. It stinks very different to Venice.”

“Right,” Seungcheol said. “If we do need to split up, it’s Mingyu, Wonwoo, and Soonyoung in one group, then Jun, myself and Sebastian in another. This is strictly a scouting mission though; if we make contact with any of the Templars try your best to withdraw if possible. I know we’re supposed to be attracting attention, but let’s see what we’re facing first. News on the others?”

Soonyoung tilted his head. “They’ve all started on their journey from Murmansk,” he reported. “They’re heading towards the Finnish border first. Jihoonie’s not happy, but he’s not in duress earlier. Seungkwanie is doing alright, and the babies don’t seem to care where they are, they feel … oddly content? At least that was at the last call.”

Jun cleared his throat. “Hao-Hao is feeling slightly optimistic as well, and his body is still strong.”

Pinching at his brow, Seungcheol nodded. “My lot feel alright as well, although I’m still worried about Chan. We’ll check in with them in just before nightfall, so I’m mandating a short rest. Mingyu-ya, grab a bed, you really don’t look well. Jun… some rest for you as well?”

Jun shook his head. “Rather meditation,” he judged. “And some blood, if we have it here. If not, I can go and hunt.”

Sebastian shot him a thumbs-up. “They’re bringing a crate around later on. It should be here in a few hours, if you can last that long.”

Standing – Wonwoo could cuddle Mingyu – Jun stretched until his spine popped. “Excellent,” he grinned. “See you all in a few hours.”

* * *

Hours later, fresh from a call with Jeonghan and the others, Seungcheol stared at himself in the mirror as he tightened the last of the belts onto his waist. He had had to fasten it a hole out from his old days – his mentor would have scoffed at the fat living standards he now kept – and made sure the semi-automatic pistols hung correctly beneath his coat. They had never felt natural, these modern killing weapons, and for a moment he savagely wished for his sword.

Sebastian had laughed and called him a romantic stereotype when he had asked for one; his son hadn’t been quite fast enough to escape the smack to the back of his head, but Seungcheol had caved and worn modern weapons.

Jun… he wasn’t sure how Jun got away with just finger-protectors and a clownish sense of humour.

When he wandered out the room looked like an urban fantasy cover novel, full of tall men dressed just in black. Most had the same kind of ‘armour’ as he had, a pullover impregnated with sleek Kevlar panels and carbon-fibre weave patches, not nearly the armour he had worn of old. “I feel underdressed,” he muttered softly to Soonyoung as he fetched up next to his friend, shifting his shoulders to try and ignore the light feeling. “Like I’m going into battle with a hankie over my dick and nothing else.”

Soonyoung snorted as he turned around, moving to check Seungcheol’s gear. “Tell me about it,” he muttered back. “Master Lee, were he not decomposed by now, would be spinning hard enough in his grave to be harnessed for energy.” He frowned, tucked the series of throwing knives in a little more smoothly, and nodded to Seungcheol. “You’re done. Lead on, General.”

Seungcheol felt obscurely touched. Of all the titles Soonyoung could have used, he had used the one Seungcheol worked the hardest for. “Listen up!” he called as he gave Soonyoung’s gear a once-over. “As I said before: we’re merely going for a look-see tonight, from the old Luxembourg entrance. Sebastian, you’ve gotten the earpieces?”

His son nodded and stepped forward with a small case in his hands. Inside, six tiny earpieces, which he handed out. “We’ll have some help from Mouse House,” he explained. “They specialise in infiltration and they know the tunnels in and out, unlike us.” Spotting the sparkle of curiosity on Wonwoo’s face, he smiled. “Please don’t try to find out who they are, _samchon_ , I already had to talk fast to get them to help.”

Soonyoung laughed exuberantly at Wonwoo’s pout; Seungcheol merely shook his head as he popped the earpiece in. It settled with a twist and a click, remarkably comfortable, and a voice bloomed in his ear.

_“Good evening.”_ The woman’s voice was slightly high, but friendly enough, and soft enough for his vampire hearing to appreciate. _“I’m your channel watcher, Anne-Sophie! The earpiece has a tracker imbedded that works on the tunnel networks, so please don’t lose it!”_

“I’ll try,” Seungcheol said softly in the emerging din as everyone checked their earpieces. He turned his head to look each of them in the eye, from his oldest friend and second to his son, who seemed a dark angel. For a moment he closed his eyes, said a prayer for the safety of his other family, and made for the villa’s front door.

It was a matter of minutes to get to the Luxembourg and onto the grounds with Mouse House to guide them. They crossed the immaculate gardens, made their way to what looked like a little gardeners’ shed and slipped inside. On the inside, the shed looked too perfect, if anything.

“These are fake,” Mingyu said with a wrinkle of his nose as he prodded at a couple of lawnmowers. “If these have been switched on in the last ten years…” He fell silent, head tilting slightly at a voice on the shared channel.

_“Mr. Mingyu is correct,”_ the woman on the other side stated. _“Please remove the equipment in the south side to reveal the floor, you should spot the hatch easily.”_

Seungcheol helped as he turned ‘Mr. Mingyu’ over in his head; oddly, he wanted to laugh.

It was Soonyoung that knelt down on the floor, prompted by instructions, and in a trice he had the entrance open, revealing a hole just wide enough for their shoulders sunk into the floor. Unlit, it looked like an entrance into hell.

_“It is little more than seven metres down,”_ the woman on the shared channel said. _“From there, it is a straight corridor until it splits around the old Saint Michel entrance.”_

The vampires looked at each other in the dark; Mingyu’s eyes flashing a reflection from the small phone light Jun had out to look down the well. “No rungs,” the Chinese vampire said.

Another round of looks before Soonyoung shrugged and stepped forward. Without a moment’s hesitation he jumped into the darkness, and the rest soon followed afterwards. Above them, after a few moments, someone entered the hut and closed the hatch, leaving them in the bowels of Paris’ underground.

Where there should have been little light, the place was filled with a dull, febrile red glow instead; it was just enough light to make Seungcheol feel positive about things as his eyes adapted. They left in single file, and it seemed to take no time at all before they were confronted with a branching passage.

Wonwoo sank down on his haunches to look at the tiny arrows the faint red light revealed. “Fascinating. This must have been an access tunnel carved previously, I can see the old chisel marks here still.”

_“You have good eyes, Mr. Wonwoo,”_ the woman said. _“Now, there was infilling here to block this off from the ossuary beyond. You will need to look for two very small chevron marks towards the floor, about one metre apart, and push. You will be able to move some of the blocks and crawl through into the public passage beyond. From there it is merely a small walk to the Aspairt Grave site, which is the first one on your list.”_

Wonwoo bent down almost until his chin hit the floor before he found the two small marks. “How do you even see this in the dark?” he muttered as he placed his hands to push. “I thought they were chisel marks.”

_“We know our way by feel in the dark,”_ the woman said. _“We would not be a secret underground society if we had large signs, after all.”_

Mingyu’s snicker sounded very loud in the dark space, but he bent to help Wonwoo at a mumble from his husband. Together the two of them pushed the space open and the vampires slid through, closing the access port from the other side.

Seungcheol straightened and looked around. There was so much light now that his eyes watered for a moment, but they cleared soon after. “What are the lights here?”

_“Part of the restricted section’s lighting network,”_ the woman answered. _“Unfortunately, not on a dimmer switch. We can switch it off if it bothers you.”_

“Rather light,” Jun said prosaically as he crossed to stand at Seungcheol’s side. “Remarkable atmosphere. Lovely spot for a date, I must bring Minghao here one day. He’d enjoy all this… history. Which way to the tomb?”

They were led through the corridors, surrounded by dressed limestone, until they found the grave… not by the inscription, but rather by the corpse that lay there, flayed open and eviscerated over what looked an inscription.

Seungcheol jerked straight as he stared at the corpse, jaw gritting. _No warning, no smell of blood, nothing. I wonder…_ He motioned the others to hang back and leant forward to creep closer slow inch by inch. He was perhaps less than three feet from the corpse that he saw it, and only because he viewed it nearly horizontally: there was a monofilament wire stretched around the corpse, nearly invisible in the strange sodium glare of the lights. It shimmered at him, jewel-toned, and would have taken his foot off if he had stepped forward.

Instead, working carefully, he moved over it as much as he could; he was practically on top of the corpse when he smelled it for the first time. Rich, so rich, a smell he would never mistake for anything else. He reared up a little, trying to see the face, but that didn’t enlighten him either, he had no idea who the victim was. Working his way back, he made for his group. “Anne-Sophie,” he murmured. “When last did any of your people come this way?”

_“Two hours ago, to check the route. Why?”_

He snapped a picture and sent it off to the drop-number they had arranged. “One of ours,” he said to his men. “Watch it, there’s a tripwire around the corpse. It looks coated with something. I can’t identify that either.”

Mingyu frowned at him before he carefully pressed Wonwoo back and wandered a measure down the corridor to where it split, moving very slowly to avoid further traps. His head was lifted to the artificial aircon air cycled along the catacombs, and his fingers trailed over the wall of bones as if he could get a sense of presence that way. “The air is dead,” he muttered. “I didn’t think of it before, but aside from all of you there’s no scent in here. I… _think_ I can smell something from the south? What’s off towards the south?”

“Beloved, you’re facing west.”

Mingyu turned to roll his eyes at that statement from Wonwoo. “Thank you, yes. What’s off towards the south and west?”

_“You’re back at the passage that you came in from?”_ the voice questioned. _“Towards the south the old Rue d’Enfer – the modern Rue Henri Barbusse – dead-ends in any meaningful way. There is however an infill some metres down it that, if opened, will lead you off towards the eastern part of the Catacombs. You’ll come out near the Ursalines church and the Rue Saint-Jacques well opening. Off towards the west it leads past the Mines’ School Underground section into the western part of the catacombs. However, the two passages do twist off to meet up with each other, you might just as well take them rather than crawl.”_

Seungcheol grimaced. “Has there been any strange movement in the Catacombs of late beyond the normal?”

Silence stretched on the channel. This time, when sound came again, it was clearly a different woman, one that sounded markedly older. “ _The Boulevard Edgard Quinet. Three Telecom workers vanished a week back. Can all of you swim well? There is a shortcut through the Visitation quarry, but thanks to the subway and the access gallery in that area, the access corridors collapsed. We can take you a level down underneath, but it is flooded, and communication will be patchy.”_ Another pause. _“It is off towards the west.”_

“How much of a shortcut?”

Again silence. Then, with a sigh, _“At least three hours. Otherwise we have to lead you up and around, especially to get past monitoring.”_

Seungcheol stared at Mingyu, who grimaced and nodded, pointing west. “Lead on,” he said. “We’ll all survive a swim.”

They were barely six steps further when Seungcheol felt intense pain and worry in his chest; the emotion was strong enough to trip him up, and seconds later Soonyoung hitched up as well, bending over a pain in his midsection.

“Father!” Sebastian said, blurring as he moved closer. “Uncle? What’s wrong? Is…”

Seungcheol fought his hands away, pulling himself to his feet by main force. “Something’s wrong,” he managed to grit out. “Something’s wrong with them. We have to leave. We have to…”

“I’m afraid,” a very cultured voice came as a man stepped out of a corridor, leader of a group dressed in very modern combat armour, “that you’ll find that is no longer an option.”

* * *

_Now:_

Minghao stood with the others, back pressed against a tree. The men that had rounded them up in the forest had been polite about things and so _young_ ; he doubted the majority were in their twenties. He could have killed all of them in a trice, so the way they fussed over his person made him feel rather odd and helpless, and obliquely irritated. It would have been better if he weren’t pregnant; he didn’t want to risk his two, so teleporting about blind and turning into a merciless killer was gone from his playbook – his husband had been _very_ clear about that.

_This was the wrong time to become pregnant. I wish I had known, but it’s too late now, and I feel as if I’m failing everyone again. First Junhui falling ill, then the hunters, and now this? Something is going on here, something big, but I wish I knew more!_

Even the forest felt odd. He had walked through these forests once before, more than two thousand years ago, but back then there wasn’t the dark feel to them that there was now. There was something in the air beyond the crackle of polar night, and there had _definitely_ been some magic involved with the fog that had spat him out in the forest before. Luckily, they hadn’t been sent that far; he remembered spells of old that could have tossed you continents away if you angered the spirits of the earth too much. Additionally, the talismans that Junhui had made for him had kept him safe, mostly – he just wished there had been enough for the others, but that had been beyond his mate’s power, each one took much out of him.

He stared into the darkness as he thought, moving as the others chose to press him into the shelter of the tree for his own protection. There was a lot of screaming going on, but it was basically background noise against the disorderly chaos in his mind.

_I’m sure I felt it seconds before the van tumbled: there had been magic, but it wasn’t directly solely at us. I dove to stop Seungkwanie from breaking his neck, and tried to shelter the babies – what’s powerful enough to tear people from my arms? Just the Templars? They had never been that powerful before, were they perhaps working with some restless spirits? It’s funny, it felt just a little familiar, as if I’ve come across it before. But where? Last time I came through here the people were so intent on surviving they didn’t bother with magic…_

Deep in his mind, in the place where his connection to Junhui lived, something pulsed softly, a wordless feeling of concern. Even after all these years, the illness and curse had robbed Junhui of so much power he couldn’t share thoughts with him. He had had to sustain the connection for both of them, and none of the other mates around here were near old enough or vampiric enough to do that.

Xu Minghao didn’t feel like a loser often, but he felt like one now.

When he paid attention to things again, Hansol was frantically prowling before them, and Jihoon was still shouting about his babies and wilding that stumpy shotgun, and the rest…

…well, the rest weren’t coping well either. Jeonghan and Jisoo had come in together, and from the frantic Russian he had overheard Jeonghan had nearly strangled one of the soldiers before identifying them, and _Jisoo_ smelled of fear and steel and blood – not his own blood, but Minghao’s nose was refusing to work well, something about the Siberian air threw him off and muting the scents somehow.

For a second a thought from Junhui’s mind filtered through his – they were creeping in some catacombs – but a noise in the distance distracted him and it shattered. Seconds later as Chan and the soldier assigned to him loped in together, hand-in-hand, it occurred to him that he hadn’t heard them come either, and that worried him more than most. Clever, to use touch to stay together, which was vastly harder to fool than anything else, especially for someone as overly sensitive as a newly-matured young vampire.

Grimacing, he pushed away from the tree and through the forest of bodies around him to get to Seokmin, pulling the other vampire aside. “Something is amiss,” he muttered very softly. “You are old enough to tell too – are your senses also lying to you? I can’t smell well, my ears are practically useless ever since we were thrown away from the van, and I’m not putting it past my eyes to not lie to me as well.”

Seokmin looked down at him, night-dark eyes squinching worriedly. “I thought it was just me because clearly Hansol’s still smelling something, but if it’s getting to you too, something’s badly amiss. I’m worried about the soldiers too – it’s not that I don’t appreciate Leonid’s gesture, but they’re less than useless right now. Perhaps we should leave them behind and forge on ourselves?”

Minghao shuddered at the thought of the raw Slavic boys up against magic. “It’s not just skin-changers, there’s a great magic working on the land, but it’s slimy. Wrong somehow. That fog… I think there was something behind it, some working of the sorcerers working with the Templars. It reminds me of old days. I…”

He broke off speaking as a great screaming cry reverberated around the forest. It wasn’t scared or angry but dipped in the deepest grief; seconds after it came the carolling of hunting horns and suddenly Minghao knew, he _knew_ what had been loosed, and fear filled him. He didn’t think, just reacted: grabbing Seokmin, he dragged him to the rest and pulled the silly soldier boys close too, pressing them as tightly together as he could. All the vulnerable people, all the humans and not-so-humans, and even with his speed he barely managed to get them in a knot before the sound of hooves ran through the forest.

They came in a stream, shining unearthly and beautiful, riding steeds that did not originate on Earth so much as in mythology. He had once heard his mother speak of them when he was a tiny, tiny boy: she had physically run away with him from the palace they stayed in rather than face these people, and that age-old fear had sunk deep into his stomach. They came and came, circling hungrily around the knot of people until they were corralled in, and finally the rider stopped in front of Minghao.

Very intently, still doubting his senses, Minghao watched as the horse-shaped thing bowed in front of him with nary an urging from the leader, who had the most fantastic set of horns on his helmet and a great hunting horn at his knee. The bitter cold wafting off him grew hoarfrost on Minghao’s eyelashes and hair.

“Sun-Sets-In-Night,” the generous mouth below the helmet said in a language long dead, so long ago that Minghao could barely remember it, but it wasn’t only that, but the original name given to him, the one only Junhui knew now. “Your safety has been bargained for and bought.”

Minghao boggled. From all the stories he had heard, the Riders had never spared a single person – for them to do so now made his thoughts reel.

“How…?” he managed to get out.

“Come,” the leader said, and stretched out his hell-cold hand to Minghao. “Tell your people to get on. The sacrifice’s blood will not last long and there are things even the Hunt fears. I…”

Minghao watched, uncomfortable, as the face on the leader’s helmet betrayed some surprise. Again, without prompting, the steed he was on moved to the side – all of them did, opening a space in the circle. Through the woods, with light sifting off it like a sunrise, what looked like a unicorn came: not the virtuous mockery mythology had made of it, not the protective symbol of the east. The unicorn had just one horn, deserving its name, but its wickedly-spiralled horn curved back slightly, perfect for gouging open bellies with the slightest toss of its head. It had a regal feeling to it, and a dangerous one – it was magnificently muscled and clearly didn’t give a shit about anything in its path. It was a king on hooves, ones which left hissing imprints as it cantered forward.

Though it was white as Minghao had expected, its long mane and tail were blood-red and its eyes flame: just seeing it both lifted his spirits and made him intensely afraid.

“Rolande,” the leader of the Hunt said, voice markedly different from the distant he had used with them. “ _You?_ ”

The unicorn said nothing, just forged forward, and the Hunt’s mounts moved wide apart out of respect for it. The people shrank as it neared them, but to no avail: it was on them before Minghao blinked again, and then something happened, something that made his mouth fall open and his heart thud in his throat.

The unicorn cast its head back and forth, looking over the people, before it knelt with great precision and respect right at Hansol’s feet. The young vampire moved forward, clearly entranced, and mounted with a quick jump that spoke of years of training: whatever was going on, Minghao had the feeling that it had been predestined somehow, written down in books long before any of them had breathed.

“Quick,” he said in an aside to the others as they shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Get on with whichever rider beckons you. Eli, tell your people to go back. You won’t be safe coming with us.”

“I’m coming with,” the young man said, already rattling off a string of orders to his men. “I owe Leonid, and I owe the young man.”

Minghao wanted to complain, but didn’t have the chance. With a quick flick of his wrist the leader of the Hunt reached and tugged him up behind him, waiting a second for him to settle fully before the steed followed the unicorn. A great noise of hooves rang in his ears, offset by a poem he had once heard Huan recite to him:

路漫漫其脩遠兮，

吾將上下而求索。

* * *

Travelling through a forest during polar night had never been one of the things on Jihoon’s bucket list, no matter how much he liked travelling. There was something _off_ with the guy that had given him a lift: very little speech, just a scowl somehow echoed on his visor’s face-plate, and sitting behind him was little sitting in a fridge. He tried hard not to shiver as they galloped through the woods to his kids, and castigated his mind for caring at all about the cold when there were greater things to worry about.

It didn’t seem that the path was straightforward either; they seemed to be travelling in a straight line, but there was an odd feeling to the air, one that irritated him subtly. It didn’t help that his super-fussy ears picked up a missed stride in the horse’s canter every so often. He tried to ignore it, praying for his twins to be safe, but it nagged at him like dripping water, and after a while he could no longer keep quiet.

“Why is he doing that? I can feel the stride but I don’t hear it.” Jihoon paused. “And we’re not that far from the crash site surely? Why is it taking so long to get there?”

The rider didn’t answer for several long moments before a sigh gusted hoarfrost white into the air. “Time is not linear here,” he said with a soft, aspirated whisper that nevertheless sounded very clear. “The tear on our prison is warping the fabric of these lands.”

Jihoon paused, lacking a reply. His mind spun with the sensation of being trapped in something he didn’t understand.

“You have good ears,” the rider prompted.

Jihoon snorted. “I’m a musician,” he explained. “If I didn’t have good ears it’d be a waste of effort.”

Somehow that sparked a bit of livelihood in the man’s carriage. “It’s been so long since I heard music,” he said wistfully, very softly. “Just the horns. Always… just the horns.”

Pity sparked in Jihoon, making his lips twist beneath the scarf protecting them. “Do you… have a partner or kids too?” Mentally he castigated himself for being so bad at small talk; Jeonghan could likely have had all the family photos out of the man by now.

“No, I have not felt that warmth.”

It was such an odd denial that it piqued Jihoon’s interest even more. “Okay… I’m sorry. Do you know what’s going on?”

At last that resulted in something, a muffled sound that might have been a mirthful scoff. “Even less than you. We guard the ways of the dead, and they rarely stay to talk. I did not know anyone with old enough blood remained to summon the Hungry Fog, or to unlock our prison.”

Jihoon swallowed thickly. “…your prison?” he asked thickly. “You said that earlier as well.”

The man did not answer. In front of them, shedding light like a torch, the unicorn Hansol was on finally landed on a piece of modern road with a clatter of sparking hooves. Way in front of them, surrounded by a circle of wailing white ghost-women, a very small person lay. Even from his distance he could see how she had been gutted open. There was blood splashed all over the scene, including up the car. In front of the mangled car a circle of smaller people stood around a great golden dome on the ground.

Jihoon wasn’t the only one to get off the mount whilst it was still cantering to a stop. The closer he got the easier he could see the things around the orbs: tiny warriors, blood dripping from caps on their heads, armed to the nines and bristling. They didn’t make way for them, staring at all of them pugnaciously, until Hansol stepped forward.

“Where is he?” the young vampire asked with a tone that he had _never_ heard in his life from the mild-mannered soul.

The leader of the little men spat to the side. “Gone,” he said with a surly tone of voice. “Whilst you were out there running around, the White Witch's things came to get him. He bargained for our safety with his life. _Stupid_. We would have protected him.”

Jihoon felt as if a bomb went off within his brain. “What?” he snarled, pushing forward uncaring to get to the dome. It sifted into nothingness at his touch, revealing the four babies inside. To a one they were silent, looking around them with wide eyes from the cover of Seungkwan’s jacket. He very carefully reached to get them – the little men did not so much as give an inch – and it took time until he had Jiminie and Iseul-ah in his hands, and Jeonghan Minseokie and Eleanor. “Where the hell is he? We were going to her to learn magic, why would she…? Did she come to rescue him from the fog?”

The little man spat again, a great hawking gobbet on the icy blood-splattered ground. “You know _nothing_ ,” he jeered. “That spider in the woods… it’s not enough she nearly killed our two races, and now she has the last hope we’ve ever had. Don’t you _get_ it, you daft moron? She’s your enemy, and she’s always been.”

“What?” Jeonghan stuttered. “But I thought…”

“What he says is true,” the Leader of the Hunt said behind them, very remote, and reached to take his helmet off. “I know. I was her first victim.”

Jihoon didn’t see the gasp so much as he heard it; when he spun around to look Hansol was already half-on the unicorn again. It reared, sharp hooves flashing to keep the others away from them, and shot forward like a bullet, fading into the thinning mist.

“No!” Minghao called out, trying to reach from Seokmin’s restraining grip.

“Hello, little brother,” the leader said, and smiled from a copy of Minghao’s face. “It’s been a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Time is a bit fluid here, but people wanted to know what the others were doing, so I provided them with a little update. The moment Seungcheol collapsed was the accident. 
>   * Does anyone still remember who Minghao's older brother is? 
> 



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fought me like you wouldn't believe. I apologise for missing so many birthdays...

Seungcheol fought through the pain, desperate to get to his feet; his bond to Jeonghan was old enough that he couldn’t get his feet to work, and his instincts drove him like a lash. Through the din of red in front of his eyes he saw Soonyoung fight and streak forward – damn gift-strength! – and a great clang of weapons came before he could stagger to his feet and blink his eyes clear.

To his surprise Sebastian strained against Mingyu, whose muscles visibly bunched to keep Soonyoung back, and Wonwoo had somehow stepped in between the two groups as well.

“Don’t,” Mingyu panted. “Don’t, they’re on our side.”

Sebastian faltered, shoulders trembling with the desire to fight, and Seungcheol breathed out very slowly as he stepped back. His son had devious habits; he’d think of nothing using excessive distraction as an opportunity to shiv someone. Jeonghan had thought him that at the very least. “Explain,” he grunted through his pain, reaching to help Soonyoung up. The other vampire’s bond was so strong and new it must have foundered him, feeling whatever he had felt. “I think we’re all a little twitchy right now.”

Wonwoo nodded slowly. “These are my palace guards,” he said, frowning over his shoulder. “Not that I expected them here. Captain, what _are_ you doing here?”

Jun, seemingly the only one that didn’t feel as if a truck hit him, frowned. “You have a palace to have guards for?”

Even in the very dim light Wonwoo’s ears coloured faintly; the men behind him bristled with perceived insult.

Seungcheol blinked when Mingyu straightened and showed his wolf-smile, little fangs very much on display. “Don’t worry,” he muttered to Jun. “I never got the full story out of them either.” He watched as Wonwoo’s face did a _Thing_. “Not that it impacts on us now, I’m more curious to know why we can’t leave. _Quickly,_ please.”

He watched the man step closer to Wonwoo and whisper to him, so softly that his hearing couldn’t pick it up, and the news made his friend blink.

“ _Sei sicuro_?” Wonwoo asked, and sighed when the man nodded, turning towards the other vampires. Beckoning for them to hunker down, he muted his mike first before speaking quickly. “One of the properties in Neuchatel was overrun last night. We’ve been using it as a halfway house for sensitive guests. Captain, give your report.”

Mingyu leant forward. “Not… not the house Emily and the family were in?” he asked, voice tight with pain.

Seungcheol watched, baffled, as the leader of the guard nodded and Mingyu collapsed backwards, face tight with pain.

“Someone, explain please,” Soonyoung muttered, jittery. “And very quickly.”

The captain of the guard came to hunker down with them. “Lady Emilia became restless last night, and insisted on moving the family. We were trying to pacify her when the attack came.” He swallowed. “We got the family out, _Serenissimo_ , but at considerable cost to my men. We here are all that remain, save my second and his detachment with the family.”

Mingyu seemed to wilt, relief clear. “I am… that is good news, Captain. Good news, although I am most sorry about your men.”

The captain shook his head quickly. “It is… we know our duty, _Serenissimo_ , we will mourn later. However, she was wild that we get in touch with you, insisting that your son is in danger. I tried to get into contact with our informants in the area, but all they could say is that they’ve not seen the party close to Finland. There hasn’t been any evidence of them on the roads towards Pasvik either. Additionally, there’s a small wrinkle – the Warden contacted me when they could not reach you an hour ago, and told me there are signs of the seals on the island failing.”

Wonwoo’s head reared up in the darkness. “What?” he bit off. “Are you sure?”

The man nodded. “He was absolutely sure. Please. We need to evacuate yourself and your husband.”

From the darkness one of the guards gurgled and the sound of a thudding body came; Seungcheol was barely fast enough to catch the bolt that streaked towards him out of the darkness. The moment it came into contact with his palm he hissed and had to drop it; it burned his palm badly. The air grew golden and thick as the adrenaline rushed through his system; despite that he was still not fast enough to trace Jun as he moved to snatch similar bolts out of the air. The clack of jade finger-protectors against wood sounded oddly pure, and Jun’s eyes lit the same smooth jade colour as something rushed at them out of the dark.

“Soonyoung!” Seungcheol shouted. “Make us an exit!” He rushed towards the web spinning out from Jun’s hands; the vampire was shaking from the force of the working. He got there barely in time to watch a shimmering dome get splashed with blood, enough of it to be an exsanguination and not a mere murder. _Something_ loped towards him, peering at him through the bloody shield, and he cursed.

The man had what looked like old armour on, a style newer than the last time he saw full armour, but made of wood: intricate carvings glimmered underneath the blood, too obscured to see what precisely, but something sparked dim-fire along the lines as if they bore energy somehow.

The man reached out to a dagger on his back and flipped it around, dragging the tip down the shield between them. The path sparked, threatening the integrity of the shield, and next to Seungcheol Jun gasped.

“Hurry,” he grunted to Seungcheol. “Hurry and move, I’ll keep him here as long as I can…”

Seungcheol, mind back in the old ways, ignored the screaming of the woman in his earpiece as Soonyoung did something very explosive behind them. His quick look at Jun told him that the man didn’t have it in him, he simply didn’t have the energy to buy them more than a few seconds of time.

_Besides,_ his mind suggested, _his mate is pregnant. Jeonghan would kill me if I let him sacrifice himself. Hannie, how I wish…_

Shouting came from behind them as Soonyoung called to the others.

“Move,” Seungcheol ordered. “Get back, Jun.”

“I…” Jun screamed with pain as the man with the dagger drove it into his web, cutting a wide slit in the protective energies. Seungcheol felt his mind slow down and fall into the golden trickle of battle-time, a gift learnt in countless wars. He shifted forward, bowled Jun out of the way and crashed into the man, rushing him like a bull with all the strength in his body. The force carried them back into the darkness where the only illumination was the blinding, searing pain of repeated stabs along his side. Something in the dagger twisted the wounds, felt as if it bit deeper and deeper, but Seungcheol held on, bore the man forward until they crashed into another tunnel wall not far from the Aspairt grave.

The lights flickered on and off, likely from whatever damage Soonyoung had done, but remained steady enough for a little illumination as he fell back, panting, from his enemy. One hand traced to the wounds in his side and he praised his Maker that he wasn’t newly-blooded, but experienced enough to be able to speak. “Who are you?” he grunted out as the man picked himself up, clearly sore as well. “Why are you even doing this?”

The man smiled at him from a bloody mouth. “Choi Seungcheol,” he got out before he had to spit blood to the side; despite the force he had been slammed into the wall with, the armour seemed pristine, and he didn’t move as if injured too badly. “Choi Seungcheol, I’ve been looking forward to this since I heard your name. The Great General! Where is your sword, Choi Seungcheol, where is the Malfosse blade? You’re going to fight me with your bare hands?”

The words tripped Seungcheol up, made him take a step back slowly. “…what?” he got out, grimacing as the wounds tried to knit against whatever had been on the damn dagger. “Who _are_ you?”

The man sneered at him. “You killed my ancestor on the field at Hastings and returned his things to his widow, who did not receive his body. All but one, which she gave to you to keep. The Malfosse Blade, the stolen sword of the king you slew.”

Seungcheol’s mind spun, raking desperately back into his memory. “You… you claim issue from Harold Godwineson?” he asked faintly. “Harold II, the last Anglo-Saxon king of England?”

“Through his daughter Gytha of Wessex, then her son Mstislav I of Kiev,” the man said. “He who was called Theodore in the Christian tradition. Ruler of Kievan Rus’.” He reached up to scrape off the balaclava he had on, revealing a young man that looked vaguely Slavic, if not for some distinct Asian features. “A holy land, defiled by the Mongol Horde… all because of a response to your _lies_.”

“I’m not following,” Seungcheol whispered, keeping an eye on the young man. “How could I have been responsible for that?”

“Kuju!” the young man screamed. “Kuju didn’t fall; not only did you bruise Saritai’s nose, but the news that he had allowed Choi Seungcheol to escape enraged his master so much that Ögedei Khan ordered his men to higher heights! The world started to crawl with his invaders and in 1235 Batu Khan came to Rus’ at last. My ancestors’ homeland, _ravaged_ , all because you couldn’t just _die_. You _mongrel_ , who gave you the right to come to our world and just… just take over like this?”

Seungcheol felt pole-axed. The years after fleeing Kuju flashed terrible images in his head: getting out of Korea with Jeonghan, becoming a nomad on the Silk Road, weeks and months skirting the Tien Shan range to the north of the desert. Getting to Samarkand, dipping down into Persia, until they had finally made it to Cairo. Jeonghan had been nearly decimated by that journey; it had not been easy, and he had just wanted to find a quiet place to settle down. “That,” he fought to get out. “That’s not my fault. I just wanted to get away. I wanted to live my _life_. And what do you mean, coming to your world?”

“You’re so ignorant it’s offensive,” the man sneered. “No more talk.” He punctuated that by lunging forward at Seungcheol; something about his movements blurred, and Seungcheol barely got out of the way.

They fought back and forth; guns might have been the new thing but Seungcheol had no use for them up close, and had only his boot-dagger, a tiny thing to face the man with. In addition, the strange dagger burnt and chewed at him each time it found his flesh, tiring him out.

_Hannie_ , he thought woozily as the pain in his chest increased tremendously. Something was dreadfully wrong with his mate, and his enemy was relentless, driven by a life brought up in anger, and…

Something flashed at the corner of his eye and he jerked up, creating just enough of an opening for the man to sweep his boot-dagger aside and sink a stake into him. The blessed, holy olive-wood screamed as it went in, sunk so deep he could feel the tip touch his lung as he fell back. His heart beat frantically to recover; his mind raced to lock his link to Jeonghan away from the pain, guard it, sever it before his death-pain passed along it. Gurgling, he tried to scrabble away but failed, falling to the man’s feet instead.

“The great Choi Seungcheol,” the young man sneered, standing over him with Seungcheol’s blood covering his hands. “Not so great in the end.” He lifted one foot to kick at the stake, drive it in even deeper.

Seungcheol stared fiercely up at him; if he were to die he would face it with his eyes open. “I have done much in my life,” he grated out. “Not all good, but I tried; you? You _wasted_ your potential. When the gods look at us in judgement, they will spit on you. You’re a fucking pissant.”

The man’s face contorted with rage and he kicked; Seungcheol felt the tip of the stake crush through his lung and into his heart, burning like hell-fire. His vision greyed out, turned into a thing with fluttering wings of shadow, and he breathed out, staring mistily at the forms come to fetch him for whatever happened after death.

Or… or not?

The shadowy, fluttering things resolved into the body of his eldest son looping a length of wire around the young man’s throat; Sebastian turned and hauled up sharply, cracking the young man’s neck with efficiency and grace.

_Hannie,_ Seungcheol’s mind whispered. _Hannie taught him that move… my beloved…_

The stake left his gut and heart with a great singing pain. “Shut up about Dad!” Sebastian yelled at him, dragging the dead young man closer with nary a care as to dignity. “Shut up and drink!” To add insult to injury he reached out to slap Seungcheol so hard Seungcheol’s neck nearly cracked as well, but it cut through the fog of death and there was a neck when his gaze cleared up and instinct… instinct _leapt_.

Seungcheol shot forward faster than a rattlesnake and sunk his teeth into the neck, draining it with great effort. It didn’t flow well, the heart was already weakening, but he didn’t care. He drank it dry, felt the heart stutter to a stop from lack of oxygen as he drained its blood supply. The power of it rushed through him, healing his wounds from the inside out, and he tossed the corpse away to roar with the sudden feeling of the blood-fire of old. He had forgotten what it was like, being cautious only to sip from his love and drink from bags. Right now… right now he felt _invincible_.

“You stupid fuck,” Sebastian got out through a tight throat. “Stupid, stupid! Don’t you know you’re not allowed to go anywhere? I’m telling Dad, you’re so screwed…”

_He’s crying,_ Seungcheol realised. He had never meshed well with his eldest boy and he thought that irreparable, but it broke something in him to see him like that through the blood-halo in his eyes. Heart yearning, he reached out to hold Sebastian and prayed fervently to the gods that everything would be alright with the rest of his family. “We have to hurry up,” he whispered into his neck. “Something’s wrong with the family. We have to hurry back there.

* * *

Chan felt light-headed and devastated as he slid off the horse an unspeaking member of the Wild Hunt had pulled him up on. There was so much blood and devastation that he didn’t know what to look at first. There were white ladies that looked like ghosts fading away into the forests, little men with red hats looking on sullenly, and his dad had Minseokie and El-ya in his arms, looking white around the mouth. Off towards the side, in the direction no one acknowledged right now there was a small figure surrounded by so much blood…

Someone touched his elbow and he nearly turned to rip them apart, hanging on by a thin thread. It was Eli, who was staring strangely at him. For a moment he wanted to cling to him, protective instincts roaring, but there was something wrong, he had…

His world imploded as something deep in his mind cracked and the red, ruined figure on the ground suddenly made sense.

_It’s her, it’s Ella, it’s… how is this possible that it’s her?_

He moved without knowing, thumping Eli away as he rushed forward. The little grumpy bastards with the red caps tried to stop him, but he was through them before he realised it, knees thumping down in the blood and guts as he knelt next to her. His hands shook as he reached out to her, palms trembling as he combed over the unfamiliar hair and the strange features of her face, but it was _her_ , her blue-blue eyes staring up into nothing. There was nowhere to touch her that wasn’t red, that wasn’t a mockery of the woman that had watched the clan’s babies so closely.

“Ella…” he got out, throat pinching off the sound. “Ella? Aella? Who did this to you?” Even though his hands coated with red, his thirst abruptly died down as the babies started wailing, and his world gave another of those uneasy, queasy thumps. Something was wrong inside him, something that had his dad screaming as well as the babies, and suddenly it felt as if his mind broke open, letting forgotten memories stream through.

_Flash_.

A room back at Gunsloe, where she had nursed him back to health and shared power he hadn’t known she had had, making him forget.

_Flash_.

A room at the military base, where he had dealt with a cursed wound and she had poured a small sun’s worth of power into him to clean it out. Compelling a promise, one he still felt lassoed around his heart. Lying to Seokmin about it afterwards, but the first time he had seen her with this face. The first crack in his innocence, blanketed by whatever mercy she had in her. Being made to forget.

_Flash_.

Sitting on the balcony of his nursery back home, days after he had been born, spinning protections around his cot. Seeing her there for months and years, but being made to forget once he grew enough to tell someone about her.

_Flash_.

Seeing her look away as another woman and a short man came to the nursery to bless the babies. Being made to forget.

_Flash._

The sight of her in the car earlier, grabbing the babies from him and curling over them as they crashed and he fought to get close to them, but was torn away by the promise of the power he had made her. Being made to forget.

_Flash_.

Seeing her lie before him in red ruin, the woman that had watched over their family for uncounted years. Feeling her promise yoke him to life, making him want to rip and tear but being unable to get past that iron band of the Compact upon his heart. Being made to forget.

_Flash._

Opening his mouth, he screamed as the pain in his heart kicked to maximum, wrapping around the faint feeling that something was going on with his father, and igniting into sheer rage.

There were screams around him again, but he didn’t register any of it. All he could do was stare as blood whorled in his fingerprints. Power wafted off him like perfume, and people were reaching for him, and… and…

Like magic, that wellspring of power left him, draining him utterly dry. The little red-hooded men scattered as he slowly bent over Aella’s corpse, tears flooding his face, and someone landed on their knees next to him.

“Chan,” Eli whispered. “Did you…. Did you know this woman?” He sounded far away, distant, as if he was having trouble processing.

“I did,” he tried to say, but couldn’t speak past the grief in his chest. Sounds came, then his dad, wrapping him in arms that smelled of home and family and all good things. All things that Aella would never have again.

Knowledge sunk into him like blood: childhood would never be an option for him again. No one would ever make him forget again.

* * *

With Wonwoo taking point and Soonyoung trailing at the end, the group made their way out of the catacombs as quickly as possible; no one was in the mood to linger, especially with an unknown force down there. Creeping back to the entrance they came in through, everyone jumped up the few metres of darkness, totally displacing the lawnmower that had been stashed on the entrance.

“Watch out,” Sebastian called softly. “He’s high, so give him space.”

Seconds later, seeing Seungcheol come flying out of the old well only to crash into the top of the shed with the force that he had misjudged tickled Mingyu’s funny-bone so much he wanted to laugh, but the situation was still so serious. “Send the others up next. Captain? Two-by-two, we’ll catch you.”

The captain didn’t waste time organising men, and the extraction proceeded quickly; when Sebastian jumped out with a pale-looking Jun in his arms Soonyoung hastened to pull the cover back. “Go,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll bring up the rear still, I’m the oldest here save Seungcheol, and he’s too wild right now. I’ll see you guys back at the apartment.”

Mingyu nodded and turned, stepping out into the night and lifting his face to the sky. There was a little wind that ruffled the hair in his nape gently; he had to fight not to breathe in, given how Paris stunk, and turned to lope after the others. Seungcheol, from what he could see, was really having trouble – the older blurred forward then stumbled to a halt, moving like a clumsy puppy from the sudden fire in his blood.

His mouth curved up to laugh, but between one step and the next the world turned on its head. It was like a crack of ice in his blood first, spreading cold through his body, and his eyes widened as he felt the change happen. His back bowed and his teeth suddenly ached in his jaw. He screamed as he fell forward, feeling the wolf burst out of him as he swelled with the ancient magic of the curse.

The wolf that hit the Paris street was absolutely massive, much larger than he normally became; across the street a semi-sober student screamed at the sudden appearance. Mingyu couldn’t spare a moment to worry about her; instead, the fire in his mind went deeper, crawling into his cells as old memories surfaced from where they had been hidden.

Countless years of being cursed into the form of a wolf then back, back to a time he remembered in fractured flashes: a woman with rainbow hair standing in front of him with a sad look on his face, the words that forced him into a wolf’s form, the years before _that_ of slowly suffocating in the dead lands. The feeling of the power he had had before as one of the ancient lords under the Hills, an opal world with rose quartz and serenity skies. The feeling of fae wine in his mouth, bitter as the seer handed down the new path of his life.

The wolf exploded off his body as golden light streamed from him, igniting the core of power he had forgotten for over two millenia: his skin and features flashed, refining to what they had been before. He howled with the agony as his fae heritage blew through the semi-mortal shell he had had before. Wonwoo was there, yelling and staring into his eyes, but he didn’t see much beyond a sort of aura, a blob of power threaded through his mate’s being. His eyes watered and his lungs stuttered, trying to breath in the dead air.

Mingyu collapsed face-down in the street, vomiting with the sheer pain of it as his body vacillated, trying to decide on a form. There was shouting now, a circle of bodies around him, until he felt familiar arms lift and tuck him close. Someone tucked his head into Wonwoo’s neck and he inhaled desperately, praying for the world to start making sense.

_She’s dead, she’s dead… what happened? She wasn’t supposed to die!_

The words echoed ‘round and ‘round in his head; he clung to Wonwoo’s scent but couldn’t make sense of his thoughts at all. When they arrived at the apartment he drooped down on the day-bed still struggling to breathe; the world clamped around his lungs like a vise as he struggled.

“Okay,” Sebastian said as he moved around the room, pulling windows shut and blinds down. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ve clearly got a situation on our hands…”

Oddly, it was Jun that motioned for quiet. “Shh,” he muttered, leaning on the Captain’s arm to get to Mingyu, brushing past a ferociously scowling Wonwoo. “Hold on.”

Mingyu watched, eyelids fluttering faintly, as the Chinese vampire knelt down on the couch next to him. He swallowed and tilted his head for fingers pressing to his forehead, ignoring the sudden scarlet hair floating in front of his eyes; Jun’s fingers were very cool against his forehead until they heated up, shockingly fast, and almost burnt him. It felt as if flesh sizzled, but in the next moment he could breathe, the vise around his lungs collapsing. Desperate, he hauled in great lungsful of air. It wasn’t enough to satisfy but it got him calm enough to concentrate, to cling to the strength of the wolf deep in his core.

“This is serious,” Jun said over his shoulder to Wonwoo. “The last time I saw this was when Hao-er broke the curse on me. The backlash from the age of it nearly killed him. Get as much blood in him as quickly as you can, he needs strength right now.” Straightening, rubbing at his fingertips with a grimace, he turned to the others. “We need to get back to the others. This is a magical sickness; I wish I could attempt to sustain him but that won’t be possible. We need Minghao or someone else that can still call up magic.”

“But what’s going on?” Soonyoung asked, forcefully holding a buzzing Seungcheol down next to him. “The wolf? And the man he looks like now? I thought the curse had been broken a long time ago?” He paused. “Sebastian? Can we get out of here tonight?”

“Not that quickly, likely not before morning.”

The captain of Mingyu’s guard stepped forward, clearing his throat. “We brought one of the jets with us for speed. I can apply for a quick clearance, if everyone can be ready to move in an hour.”

“Do it,” Wonwoo ordered shortly. He moved to bite a wound at his wrist, holding it in front of Mingyu’s mouth for his mate to drink. “Soonyoung- _hyung_ , we thought we had broken it, but clearly not, if it just broke now. If it affects him like this, I don’t know what’s been passed down to Hansol either. I’m just not sure how to find them, if we’ve been having trouble tracking them down.”

“Easy…” Seungcheol broke off to cough, twitching. “Easy. I’m so super-charged at the moment I’ll be able to hone in on Hannie with no issues.” He closed his eyes. “He’s somewhere…somewhere close to Finland, I think, it’s not as if this has a GPS signal, and he can’t answer back. But if you get me within a country of him, I’ll be able to find him. Aim for the line between Finland and Russia. I…”

The apartment fell to deadly silence as a phone rang. One ring, then two, before Soonyoung cursed and leant sideways to haul the blocky sat-phone from his pocket. He accepted the call, listened and reached to put it on the table. “Go on, kitten,” he encouraged. “Everyone’s listening.”

Jihoon’s voice sounded tired and dead. “We were attacked. The White Witch is behind everything, we’ve been dodging attacks since we last spoke, and…” He paused for a moment. “Seungkwan’s been kidnapped by her. The… the people here said it was to bargain for the babies’ safety. Miss Blaire is dead, and Channie’s in a state, he’s nearly totally broken down, and I don’t even know what’s going on with Hansol. It’s really bad, we’re out of our depth.”

Seungcheol looked white from the effort not to leap on the phone; Wonwoo still beat him to the questions. “Something’s going on with Hansol? What? Is there any hint as to where Seungkwan might be?”

“And what’s going on with Chan?” Seungcheol got in at the end.

“I don’t know,” Jihoon bit off. “Hansolie’s not speaking in a language I understand, but the, um, the people here say he’s raving and…”

A sound came, a wail from a baby, and a new voice came. “This is Eli,” the man said. “Sorry. The babies are restless and the fae…” Another break, this time with more arguments, before he came back. “Sorry, they’re insisting we call them the Wild Hunt, not the fae. But it has to do with the horse… ouch! Sorry! It has to do with the unicorn that showed up. The older gentlemen are trying to keep the babies calm, the White Women are upsetting them. I can send you a GPS location for where we are now, but it’s cutting in and out… ow!”

“What the hell?” Soonyoung wondered. “Where is Minghao and Seokmin? Did something happen to them?”

“No, fuck you, stop _kicking me_! I… get off!” The man sounded apologetic a second later. “Sorry. I had someone screaming at me in Russian. Minghao-ssi and Seokmin-ssi are talking to the leader of the Hunt about where Seungkwan-ssi might have been taken, but the reason we’re calling is that the safe space here won’t last much longer. We’ll try to get out and back to Murmansk, but everyone is pretty eager to have you here, sir.”

The vampires gathered in the apartment looked at each other before Wonwoo nodded to the Captain, motioning him away with Sebastian. “We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he said, and stood, reaching for Mingyu to pick him up.

Seungcheol gnawed his lip and frowned down at the phone. “Eli?” he asked questioningly. “What happened to Chan?”

A sigh came. “We don’t know,” Eli finally said. “He’s close to catatonic, sir. I think… I think it’s best if you come very quickly. Everyone here needs all of you.”

“Give the phone to Chan,” Seungcheol ordered as he stood. “I’ll talk to him. Soonyoung-ah…”

Soonyoung nodded. “I’ll get the place ready to go.”

* * *

The plane had been in the air for at least an hour when Soonyoung finally sat back with a sigh, conscious about letting the tension flow out of him. Seungcheol and Sebastian had retreated into the bedroom section of the jet to talk to Chan, which left him to tiredly stare at the trio in front of him: Jun, Wonwoo and Mingyu. “Run this by me one more time,” he finally said, looking at Mingyu from top to bottom. “I’m not super clear on how the hair dye job got involved, and how it crosses into the wolf thing.”

Mingyu coughed, still sipping at a blood pack, and dabbed at his mouth before answering hoarsely. “All I can remember is that I swore a promise to someone to protect something, but I didn’t come from here, I think I was something else. They cursed me into the shape of a wolf and time sort of went away, but I protected the place as well as I could. I think. I roamed all over the north of Italy and things must have gotten twisted, because I started protecting others as well.”

“Like Robin Hood,” Wonwoo interjected to Soonyoung. “I had left Korea somewhere around the Caliphate spreading over the world like a plague, and I landed in Italy. I was much healthier and taller than the men in those days, and the nobles of a region approached me to assist them in killing a wolf that was giving them trouble, a great creature that stood as tall as a man. It wouldn’t be difficult – I’m a vampire, it’s a wolf – and that thinking lasted me as long as actually meeting the wolf.”

“He was good,” Mingyu got out. “Very good. I thought that he had come to try and kill me, which he did, and I had lasted centuries at that point in my curse, I wasn’t going to back down. We met, and I tried to kill him.”

Wonwoo nodded. “If he had been a normal human I would have succeeded, but the way he fought and the way the local peasants talked about him – things didn’t add up. There were countless little stories of him leading lost kids out of the woods, or catching prey for the families hit the hardest. He even protected lumberjacks; I still remember a story of him rescuing one from under a tree and dragging him back to the nearest town. It made me wonder about the bs I had been told by the nobles, and I had _never_ really ascribed to the notion that people were inherently born noble.”

Jun grunted from his side. “Could tell you some stories about that.” He paused and stood. "Forgive me. I have to go eat something again."

“Soon we had fought through winter and into spring, and then the nobles got shirty about the whole thing and started involving the church,” Mingyu muttered. “I saw several trying to exorcise me, but it’s when they started bringing pikes and traps and fire that I really, _really_ didn’t like it. Not so much for me, I could see and smell the pitfalls, but the rest of the forest and surrounding towns were suffering.”

Draping a hand on his mate’s lap, Wonwoo smiled at Soonyoung. “Seeing the way the church soldiers ran rough-shot over everyone made up my mind for me. I went to the wolf, tried to warn him, and to my surprise… it seemed the wolf understood? A little at least, we didn’t have magical conversations. Anyway, we ended the threat and re-inspired paganism in that area, but eventually the church and the nobles were persuaded to stay away, and suddenly I had a great huge wolf as a friend.”

Mingyu returned his mate’s smile, though it strained at the corners of his mouth. “He was interesting, so I started following him around. As he left and I followed, something started to draw me west, and I knew something was important when I finally saw Venice. I had no idea how to get there so I made his life a little hell.”

Wonwoo laughed softly. “He really did. Have you ever seen a wolf as tall as that sulk and whine? It’s _pathetic_. I tried looking around for answers, tried researching, until I finally hit upon the notion that it might not be a wolf cursed with intelligence and odd tastes, but a man cursed with a wolf’s shape. I even went to a local soothsayer, who had a look at him and started laughing. I still remember asking her what she was laughing about and she said ‘fate’. She told me she had no way of breaking the curse and… well… by that time I was fond of him and didn’t want to desert him.” He reached to squeeze Mingyu’s hand.

“I would have swum after you in any case,” Mingyu reminded him softly, hoarsely.

“In any case, we crossed back into the north of Italy and tried our best, but between the Church being angry at us and the people becoming more and more scared of such supernatural things, we kept a low profile. Over the next few years it got so bad that, for his safety if not mine, we really had to depend on the one place that was still somewhat out of the Church’s grasp – at least if the doges had to say anything about it.”

Mingyu turned his head to look at the dawn glimmering through one of the windows. “I swam over at neap tide. It was dark so I got confused and landed on a small island, not the main one. The moment I set foot on it I felt something pull me forward until I saw a small, rundown chapel. There was something odd about the door that hung open, and I could smell blood even if I couldn’t see it anymore. I felt it hook into my curse and snarl it up – I took a step forward as a wolf and landed a man, just as happened tonight.”

Wonwoo nodded. “I was… quite surprised,” he added deeply. “I had been growing fond of the wolf and here’s this great big puppy instead… though he looked nothing like I had imagined. Korean? The chances of that were slim. We eventually figured out that somehow the magic lingering there had made do with the only template close and fashioned him in a vampire’s likeness. We sheltered there for weeks, and he didn’t change back, and eventually we thought the curse had been lifted somehow, or run out of juice.”

Soonyoung tilted his head. “And after that?”

“After that?” Wonwoo questioned. “We went to Venice for a while. Those were mad times, impossibly lush times – did you know that Mingyu got adopted by Diego Morosini into his family because he saved his fiancée? He also brokered peace for us with the Church. We still went to the mainland at times, trying to get the world to at least sit still long enough not to explode, and things… furthered. I fell in love with _Serenissimo_ , and the rest is family history.”

Mingyu’s tired smile showed. “It was Wonwoo that gave me a name – he called me Mingyu after an older friend of his. It took roughly a century before we really got together, right at the height of the thirteenth century, which was generally such a bad shitshow I don’t even want to talk about it. Plague, witch-trials, inquisitions… to get away from it we fled to the mountains of Switzerland for a time.”

Seungcheol interrupted the conversation as he and Sebastian emerged from the bedroom section. “Hannie wants you to try and talk to Hansol,” he said, holding the phone out to them. “We can reminisce later.”

Swallowing, Mingyu too the phone and left; Wonwoo followed soon after, and Soonyoung sat there for a couple of moments before he shook his head. “I’m getting a bad feeling,” he admitted to Seungcheol. “The feeling of being herded to a place that I didn’t choose. Too many things are coming together now, coinciding. There are so few of us remaining, but what happened at your house, the Templars and now Baba Yaga? I feel like we’re being pushed towards a cliff like a horde of lemmings to see if we can fly.”

Seungcheol leant forward to steeple his fingers together, but remained quiet; to Soonyoung’s surprise it was Sebastian that spoke. “Years ago,” he began quietly, “right at the cusp of my adulthood, I had a dream. I had gone out hunting that day, dissatisfied with my parents and angry, and I fell asleep in a barn somewhere and dreamt that a woman came to speak to me. She looked very old in the dream, very tired, but we talked about families and sacrifice, and when I woke in the morning the anger had been leached out of me. I went back home and thought it a mere fantasy, my brain trying to work through things, but now I’m not so sure. Perhaps our family has had someone guiding us for a long time. Perhaps… perhaps you’re right.”

Seungcheol scrubbed at his face. “Even if your feeling is right, even if we’re heading to some liminal event, our mates and our children are involved. We can’t step out and flee to safety, not this time. Even if I were still… somewhat amenable to sacrificing Seungkwan, the family would riot and kick me in the head for trying to order them away. All we really can do is meet up and then go looking.”

They broke off as Jun came close, looking a little less grey than he had before.

“You still look like shit,” Seungcheol opined. “Has the blood been helping?”

Jun shrugged. “I downed five bags. It’s not so much the content as the… the power of it, if that makes sense. Your daughter says that as vampires age their blood changes as well, becomes more concentrated. The little things… the cells? They change as well. No matter how much I drink, thanks to the changes my body went through it takes me longer and longer to metabolise. I try not to act, to store up power, but it is difficult now. Feeding Mingyu and myself is difficult.”

Soonyoung watched him with a distant expression before his slanted eyes opened a little. “Would it help if you drank from one of us?” he asked diffidently. “If it’s age, then Seungcheol or myself should be better.”

Jun gave him a surprisingly sweet smile. “Now you want me to fantasize about you? It’s not enough that Jihoon-ah would slice me up for doing that? You want to overwhelm your new bond to him?”

Seungcheol gave a great, huffing laugh at that. “Jeonghan and I have been mated for much longer. If it’s really urgent, I’ll offer.” His brows pulled together into a frown. “Has it always been like this? You were a vampire from the start, right?”

Looking out the window, Jun gave a quick grimace. “From the start yes, but not with the same kind of bloodline as my mate. I barely even knew my parents; I had very little power, barely more than a human.” He reached up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “To be honest, the only thing that’s going to help both Mingyu and myself is a great infusion of energy from somewhere. I nearly drained my baobei dry trying to kickstart my metabolism after the illness. I need… I guess we need someone many times stronger than him.”

Soonyoung’s face fell. “Does such a person even exist?” he muttered. “Is there really nothing you can do?”

“I recover in time, I promise,” Jun murmured. “Tell me about plan to rescue younger brother. You have no idea where he is, right?”

Seungcheol shook his head. “Literally all we have right now is a raving Hansol-ah; Eli says that none of the, ah, rescuers have spoken very much about it. They’re being extremely cagey. Like there’s a price to be paid for the information, but they don’t want to ask outright and they’re waiting for something to happen to change their minds.”

“That won’t last long,” Jun said with another absentminded smile. “My mate can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.”

* * *

Seungkwan woke up to the sound of dripping water and an old, musty smell. He wrinkled his nose but didn’t open his eyes after the happenings of the past few hours. The creatures that had lived inside the fog hadn’t been kind when they moved him, and he hadn’t said anything because they looked like the kind of nightmare monsters that might pluck away toes or eyes just because they felt like it.

He hadn’t even said anything at all when they left him in this cell. The cold had stripped enough of his defences to render him tired and weak, and it had been difficult to fall asleep. He wasn’t sure where he was, barring a small metal room.

_Ella,_ his heart whispered in his ears. _Miss Blaire. The babies. The babies are safe._

It wasn’t really a reason to open his eyes and face whatever might be on the other side of his eyelids. At least nothing had whispered to him in his sleep; the only noise in the world was the steady dripping in one corner. No one would know if he lay here forever; a part of himself lied enough to tell him that he’d be safe that way, away from the monsters hidden in the dark, clinging wetness of the Fog.

His memories flashed without organisation: white women streaming out of a portal, cuddling with Hansol at Gunsloe, writing his high school exams. There was literally no link between them and he couldn’t make out why. His head felt like a file cabinet that someone had messed up.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t…

The next drop that fell sounded magnified in his ears and he felt vaguely proud of the fact that he had gone mad enough to ignore it. Curling up a little more on the metal slab, he ignored the feeling that monsters were hiding in the corners of the room and thought about what scant happy memories he could trace: Jeju, his mother, Hansol. Gunsloe, the babies. Jihoon-hyung. Hansol. Getting his master’s degree in an unprecedented amount of time. Hansol. The feeling of grass against his feet, the smell of waves in his nostrils.

_Hansol_.

If he ever got out of here, he would…

“But you’re not getting out of here,” a male voice said from one of the dark corners.

Seungkwan’s eyes flicked open against his will, rounding when he saw a precise replica of his face. “You’re not real,” he tried to say, but his voice wavered. “You’re not…”

“You’re never getting out of here. You have a strong mind, Boo Seungkwan, but one thing you must accept. You are _never_ getting away from us again.”

Boo Seungkwan opened his mouth and screamed until his throat felt raw, curling in on himself to make the darkness behind his eyes go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * This is the darkest chapter. From here, the sun rises and things get better. 
> 



End file.
